Blame Where You Must, Be

Amid Thy Desert-walks The Lapwing Flies, And Tires Their Echoes With Unvaried Cries.

Some Fleeting Good, That Mocks Me With The View.

Persecution Is A Tribute The Great Must Always Pay For Preeminence.

Ill Fares The Land, To Hastening Ills A Prey, Where Wealth Accumulates, And Men Decay. Princes And Lords May Flourish Or May Fade,- A Breath Can Make Them, As A Breath Has Made; But A Bold Peasantry, Their Country's Pride, When Once Destroy'd, Can Never Be Supplied.

Man Seems The Only Growth That Dwindles Here.