Impartial I survey’d, and fearless drew.
And say, ye skilful in the human heart,
Who know to prize a poet’s noblest part,
What age, what clime, could e’er an ampler field
For lofty thought, for daring fancy, yield?
I saw this England break the shameful bands
Forg’d for the souls of men by sacred hands:
I saw each groaning realm her aid implore;
Her sons the heroes of each warlike shore;
Her naval standard (the dire Spaniard’s bane)