ODE To

Praise to the men who boldly dare, Their undissembled thoughts declare; Who speak the sentiments they feel, And loud proclaim the crimes they might conceal.

Who nobly zealous daily try, To pluck the mask from villany; By neither threat nor promise sway'd, By pow'r unaw'd, by danger undismay'd—

Who Justice's sacred sword unsheath, To guard fair Freedom's valued wreath; Yet careful shun the deed which draws, Th' unwelcome shout of popular applause.

Who, blest with talents to persuade, Exert them for their Country's aid; By virtue, not ambition fir'd, For worth belov'd, not pageantry admir'd—

'Tis theirs with kind and bounteous hand, To scatter plenty o'er the land; To bid distress and sorrow smile, And crown with due reward the Artist's toil:

'Tis theirs to ease the Widow's fears, To wipe the friendless Orphan's tears; Redress the wrongs the weak endure, Punish the guilty, and protect the poor.

Theirs is the noblest boon below, The purest bliss the mind can know! That tranquil undisturb'd serene, Resulting from the conscious peace within.

For them each grateful voice shall ring, For them each Muse her tribute bring; And in the hour which levels all, Death with complacence shall await their call.