Our fathers’ breasts, and this proud Isle preserv’d
For many a rugged age: and scorn the while
Each philosophic atheist’s specious guile;
The soft seductions, the refinements nice,
Of gay Morality, and easy Vice;
So shall we brave the storm; our ’stablish’d pow’r
Thy refuge, Europe, in some happier hour.
461
But, French in heart, though Victory crown our brow,
Low at our feet though prostrate Nations bow,