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                                                   True Liberty                                                                                                  49
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He is the Freeman, whom the truth makes few, And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain, That hellish foes, confederate for his harm Can wind around him, but he cast it off, With as much ease as Samson his green withs, He looks abroad throughout the varied fields Of nature, and though poor perhaps, compar'd With those, whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. His are the mountains and the vallies his, And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy, With a propriety that none can feel. But who with filial confidence inspir'd Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye And smiling say, "My Father made them all."

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                             John Ridge, Cornwell, Feb.23. 1819