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But feels the Censor spirit rise
At folly’s idle pranks?
With voice that fills the Congress halls,
“Domestic manufactures” bawls,
And damns the Dandies and the Banks!

Behold! where Junius town is set,
A Brutus is the judge;⁵⁶
’Tis true he serves the Tarquin yet,
Still winds his limbs in folly’s net,
And seems a very patient drudge.
But let the Despot fall, and bright
As morning from the shades of night,
Forth in his pride he’ll stand,
The guard and glory of our soil,
A head for thought, a hand for toil,
A tongue to warn, persuade, command.

Lo! Galen sends her Doctors round,
Proficients in their trade;
Historians are in Livy found,
Ulysses, from her teeming ground
Pours politicians ready made;
Fresh orators in Tully rise,
Nestor our counsellors supplies,
Wise, vigilant, and close;
Gracchus our tavern-statesmen rears,
And Milton finds us pamphleteers,
As well as poets, by the gross.