Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/102

The lusty sicken, and the feeble die. 360
But cheerful are the labours of the loom,
By health and ease accompany'd : they bring
Superior treasures speedier to the state
Than those of deep Peruvian mines, where slaves
(Wretched requital !) drink, with trembling hand, 365
Pale Palsy's baneful cup. Our happy swains
Behold arising in their fattening flocks
A double wealth, more rich than Belgium's boast,
Who tends the culture of the flaxen reed ;
Or the Cathayans, whose ignobler care 370
Nurses the silk-worm ; or of India's sons,
Who plant the cotton grove by Ganges' stream.
Nor do their toils and products furnish more
Than gauds and dresses, of fantastic web,
To the luxurious : but our kinder toils 375
Give clothing to necessity ; keep warm
Th' unhappy wanderer, on the mountain wild
Benighted, while the tempest beats around.
No, ye soft sons of Ganges, and of Ind,
Ye feebly delicate ! life little needs 380
Your feminine toys, nor asks your nerveless arm
To cast the strong-slung shuttle or the spear.
Can ye defend your country from the storm
Of strong invasion ? Can ye want endure,
In the besieged fort, with courage firm ? 385
Can ye the weather-beaten vessel steer,
Climb the tall mast, direct the stubborn helm
Mid wild discordant waves with steady course ?
Can ye lead out, to distant colonies,
Th' o'erflowings of a people, or your wrong'd 390
Brethren, by impious persecution driven,
And arm their breasts with fortitude to try
New regions, climes, tho' barren, yet beyond
The baneful pow'r of tyrants ? These are deeds