PROLOGUE TO THE ENGLISHMAN AT BOURDEAUX . Performed since the conclusion of the peace , with universal applause , at PARIS . TOO long by some fatality misled , From pride resulting , or from folly bred ; Each clime to all the virtues lays a claim , And soars , self-flatter'd , to the top of fame ; Confines each merit to itself alone , Or thinks no other equal to its own : E'en the pale Russian shiv'ring as he lies , Beneath the horror of his bitterest skies , While the loud tempest rattles o'er his head , Or bursts all dreadful on his tott'ring shed , Hugs a soft something closely to his soul , That soothes the cutting sharpness of the pole , Elates his bosom with a conscious pride , And smiles contempt on all the world beside . 'Tis your's , O France , the earliest to unbind This more than Gordian manacle of mind ! To-night we bid your justice may be shewn To foreign virtues equal with your own ; Think , nobly think , when nature first was born , And fair creation kindled into morn , The world was but one family , one band , Which glow'd all grateful to the heavenly hand ; Thro' ev'ry breast a social impulse ran , Link'd beast to beast , and fasten'd man to man , And the sole diff'rence which he heard , or had , Dwelt in the simple phrases , " good or bad . " Then scorn to give such partial feelings birth , As claim but one poor competence of earth ; Be more than French ; on ev'ry country call , And rise , exalted , citizens of all .