work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context 7750,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,2013-11-10 04:16:01 UTC,"Tell him, it is not the fantastick Boy,
Elate with pow'r and swell'd with frantick joy,
'Tis not a slavish Senate, fawning, base,
Can stamp with honest fame a worthless race;
Tho' the false Coin proclaim him great and wise,
The tyrant's life shall tell that Coin, it lyes.

But when your early Care shall have design'd
To plan the Soul and mould the waxen Mind;
When you shall pour upon his tender Breast
Ideas that must stand an Age's Test,
Oh! there imprint with strongest deepest dye
The lovely form of Goddess LIBERTY!

For her in Senates be he train'd to plead,
For her in Battles be he taught to bleed.
Lead him where Dover's rugged cliff resounds
With dashing seas, fair Freedom's honest Bounds,
Point to yon azure Carr bedrop'd with gold,
Whose weight the necks of Gallia's Sons uphold;
Where proudly sits an iron-scepter'd Queen,
And fondly triumphs o'er the prostrate scene,
Cry, that is Empire! shun her baleful path,
Her Words are Slavery, and her Touch is Death!
Thro' wounds and blood the Fury drives her way,
And murthers half, to make the rest her prey.
(pp. 73-4)",,23146,"","""But when your early Care shall have design'd / To plan the Soul and mould the waxen Mind; / When you shall pour upon his tender Breast / Ideas that must stand an Age's Test, / Oh! there imprint with strongest deepest dye / The lovely form of Goddess LIBERTY!""",Impressions,2013-11-10 04:16:27 UTC,""