But while this softer art their bliss supplies,
  It gives their follies also room to rise;
  For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,
  Enfeebles all internal strength of thought, 270
  And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
  Leans for all pleasure on another’s breast. 
  Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
  Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
  Here vanity assumes her pert grimace, 275
  And trims her robes of frieze[32] with copper lace;
  Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
  To boast one splendid banquet once a year;
  The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
  Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 280

  To men of other minds my fancy flies,
  Embosomed in the deep where Holland[33] lies. 
  Methinks her patient sons before me stand,
  Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
  And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, 285
  Lift the tall rampire’s[34] artificial pride. 
  Onward methinks, and diligently slow,
  The firm connected bulwark seems to grow;
  Spreads its long arms amidst the wat’ry roar,
  Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore. 290
  While the pent ocean, rising o’er the pile,
  Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile: 
  The slow canal, the yellow blossomed vale,
  The willow tufted bank, the gliding sail,
  The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,—­ 295
  A new creation rescued from his reign.

  Thus while around the wave-subjected soil
  Impels the native to repeated toil,
  Industrious habits in each bosom reign,
  And industry begets a love of gain. 300
  Hence all the good from opulence that springs,[35]
  With all those ills superfluous treasure brings,
  Are here displayed.  Their much-loved wealth imparts
  Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts: 
  But view them closer, craft and fraud appear; 305
  E’en liberty itself is bartered here. 
  At gold’s superior charms all freedom flies;
  The needy sell it, and the rich man buys;
  A land of tyrants and a den of slaves,
  Here wretches seek dishonorable graves, 310
  And calmly bent, to servitude conform,
  Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.[36]
  Heavens! how unlike their Belgic sires[37] of old,
  Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold;
  War in each breast, and freedom on each brow; 315
  How much unlike the sons of Britain now!

  Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing,
  And flies where Britain courts the western spring;
  Where lawns[38] extend that scorn Arcadian pride,[39]
  And brighter streams than famed Hydaspis[40] glide. 320
  There all around the gentlest breezes stray;
  There gentle music melts on every spray;