The Fisher Boy A Poem Comprising his Several Avocations, during the four Seasons of the Year ... By H. C. [i.e. S. W. H. Ireland] |
 |
|
AUTUMN. |
 | The Fisher Boy |  |
61
AUTUMN.
62
THE ARGUMENT.
Description of Autumn.—Nutting.—Cutting the Seine, with Ned's ideas.—Shooting the Seine for Pilchards.—Porpoise described, and its Use.—The Fisher-Boy makes and rigs a Sloop. —A Donkey purchased.—Ned finds Friends.—His conduct to his Ass, with the Apostrophe of the Poet on that Animal's sufferings.—Smuggling adverted to.—Fate of the Smugglers when pressed.—Culm, and its Use.—Samphire picking.— Aurora Borealis.—Playing of the Salmon.—An English Fleet at Sea.—Poet's Address to Howe, Duncan, Vincent, and Nelson. —Ned's feelings as a Briton.
63
Veil'd in the purple streakings of the dawn,
Old Time steals softly to the sleeping morn,
Who from the dappled pillow rears her head,
And rises, blushing to be caught in bed.
Now cooler breezes fan the close shorn ground,
And mirthful strains of harvest-home resound.
While sol, more partial grown with length'ning shades,
Darkens the hills and 'luminates the glades,
The winds more chilling play o'er ocean's surge,
And curling breakers more impetuous urge,
To wash the shingle, which, with constant roar
Rumbles unsteady thunder to the shore.
Still brightly glows the vaulted concave high,
Reflecting on the waves its azure dye,
While gold and purple morn, and evening grace,
To tinge with hues alternate ocean's face;
With Virgo changing from their lust'rous green,
The leafy clothings of the woods are seen,
Gilded by sol, their dark brown tinges glow,
And all the honours of ripe autumn show.
Now hies our Ned, with bag and long hook'd stick,
To hedges, wood, and coppice, nuts to pick,
Showing their shells, quite bronz'd and hard with heat,
Which yield, when crack'd, a firm and savoury meat;
These sold in pecks, an eighteenpence produce,
For little Neddy's and his mother's use.
Old Time steals softly to the sleeping morn,
Who from the dappled pillow rears her head,
And rises, blushing to be caught in bed.
Now cooler breezes fan the close shorn ground,
And mirthful strains of harvest-home resound.
While sol, more partial grown with length'ning shades,
Darkens the hills and 'luminates the glades,
The winds more chilling play o'er ocean's surge,
And curling breakers more impetuous urge,
To wash the shingle, which, with constant roar
Rumbles unsteady thunder to the shore.
Still brightly glows the vaulted concave high,
Reflecting on the waves its azure dye,
64
To tinge with hues alternate ocean's face;
With Virgo changing from their lust'rous green,
The leafy clothings of the woods are seen,
Gilded by sol, their dark brown tinges glow,
And all the honours of ripe autumn show.
Now hies our Ned, with bag and long hook'd stick,
To hedges, wood, and coppice, nuts to pick,
Showing their shells, quite bronz'd and hard with heat,
Which yield, when crack'd, a firm and savoury meat;
These sold in pecks, an eighteenpence produce,
For little Neddy's and his mother's use.
65
And now the seine's still haul'd thro' liquid fields,
When sea's autumnal summer's store still yields;
For fishermen thus piling up the hoard,
Destin'd to clothe with food the wint'ry board;
And though fell venom hath less room to sport,
In lowly hamlet than the splendid court,
Black rancor sometimes will gangrene the breast,
And by its influence rob the mind of rest.
Spread o'er the beach, and canopied by sky,
Nightly the dripping seine is left to dry,
When, though but seldom, it has still been known,
Dark rankling hatred, having love o'erthrown,
In gloom obscur'd, some soul by fiends beset,
Hath stol'n with knife, and cut his neighbour's net;
In vain next morn is tender'd a reward,
None know the villain, though, with one accord,
The act nefarious is at once contemn'd,
And the insidious wretch by all condemn'd.
Nor should be left untold the just disdain
Of Ned, employ'd to mend the owner's seine,
Whose swelling bosom with no rancour fraught,
Demands how man can nurture such a thought;
Who boasts a spirit with its God allied,
A soul created to be deified.
When sea's autumnal summer's store still yields;
For fishermen thus piling up the hoard,
Destin'd to clothe with food the wint'ry board;
And though fell venom hath less room to sport,
In lowly hamlet than the splendid court,
Black rancor sometimes will gangrene the breast,
And by its influence rob the mind of rest.
Spread o'er the beach, and canopied by sky,
Nightly the dripping seine is left to dry,
66
Dark rankling hatred, having love o'erthrown,
In gloom obscur'd, some soul by fiends beset,
Hath stol'n with knife, and cut his neighbour's net;
In vain next morn is tender'd a reward,
None know the villain, though, with one accord,
The act nefarious is at once contemn'd,
And the insidious wretch by all condemn'd.
Nor should be left untold the just disdain
Of Ned, employ'd to mend the owner's seine,
Whose swelling bosom with no rancour fraught,
Demands how man can nurture such a thought;
Who boasts a spirit with its God allied,
A soul created to be deified.
67
But soft, from acts like these my sick'ning muse
With blushes turns—still anxious to infuse
The theme of honest labour, which imparts
Pure honour's stainless badge to lowly hearts.
With blushes turns—still anxious to infuse
The theme of honest labour, which imparts
Pure honour's stainless badge to lowly hearts.
In myriads now are caught, of heav'nly blue,
The boney pilchard, rob'd in silver too,
One haul producing oft upon the shore,
Full sixteen thousand fish, and sometimes more,
For frying fam'd, while some in pickle stow'd,
Preserve till winter, in their hoop'd abode.
The boney pilchard, rob'd in silver too,
68
Full sixteen thousand fish, and sometimes more,
For frying fam'd, while some in pickle stow'd,
Preserve till winter, in their hoop'd abode.
Now oft, prognostic of approaching gales,
The dark and flound'ring porpoise inland sails,
O'er ocean's breakers rears its curvy back,
Studding the green and white with nobs of black;
In net this fish unsightly oft is found,
With snout of hog, and swell'd up carcase round,
And lengthen'd tail, of dusky greyish hue,
Form'd like an anchor to the transient view.
And though this fish no store of wealth brings in,
For use the fisherman preserves its skin,
Leaving the carcase to the ebbing wave,
Which forthwith wafts it to a wat'ry grave:
The length'ning nights yield Ned a fresh employ,
To form a ship, now works the fisher-boy;
The hull first carves, from oaken block so stout,
Then scoops with care the rough-hewn model out;
With caution labours, and oft whets the steel,
The bows to form, and sharp projecting keel;
Next he essays the sounding deck to frame,
And from soft deal with ease effects the same;
The red-hot pin thro' each side nine times runs,
His grand attempt, a sloop of eighteen guns.
Through deck and bottom then the holes he drills,
Which next he with the main and foremast fills;
Constructs the rigging, ladders, blocks, and sails,
Pliant to meet, or full, or reef'd the gales:
The bottom pitches, and with paint supplied,
With varied gaudy stripes adorns each side;
To keel the steadying lead affixes straight,
That more majestic it may sail with weight.
In limpid flood his work he sets afloat,
To try the equipoize of his new boat;
With pleasure views it plough the chrystal stream,
And safely dance in flood reflected beam,
The work of pastime, profit soon supplies,
His sloop he ventures, and it proves a prize.
To sons of opulence the toy is shown,
Each youth desires the plaything for his own,
Which purchas'd, yields to Ned's enraptur'd sight,
Two weighty golden guineas, shining bright,
Which, with a pound in store, he puts to trade,
And buys a long-ear'd donkey, well array'd
With saddle, bridle, and good panniers twain,
Prepar'd the finny burthen to sustain.
With small beginnings Ned repairs around,
Though small his profits, yet his store is found
Encreasing daily; for where he attends,
On all sides he procures himself new friends.
One to his charge a letter will entrust,
Whose safe deliv'ry proves the stripling just.
A parcel for another is convey'd,
When equal caution is by him display'd:
From valet of some 'squire, for all his care,
Ned gets a coat, but little worse for wear.
From cook the refuse of the pantry earns,
In short, has presents from them all in turns;
For there's no soul that knows him, young or old,
But to his care would yield up untold gold.
Yet of his chief support this forms no share,
In vending fish consists his ruling care;
Since thence a certain profit he obtains,
The winter's comforts from autumnal gains.
Nor must the muse now let unheeded pass,
Our stripling's conduct to his patient ass:
For Ned's not gifted with an heart of steel,
But knows full well the beast like him can feel;
And with such marks of care the ass doth tend,
As speaks it not a donkey, but a friend.
The dark and flound'ring porpoise inland sails,
O'er ocean's breakers rears its curvy back,
Studding the green and white with nobs of black;
In net this fish unsightly oft is found,
With snout of hog, and swell'd up carcase round,
And lengthen'd tail, of dusky greyish hue,
Form'd like an anchor to the transient view.
And though this fish no store of wealth brings in,
For use the fisherman preserves its skin,
69
Which forthwith wafts it to a wat'ry grave:
The length'ning nights yield Ned a fresh employ,
To form a ship, now works the fisher-boy;
The hull first carves, from oaken block so stout,
Then scoops with care the rough-hewn model out;
With caution labours, and oft whets the steel,
The bows to form, and sharp projecting keel;
Next he essays the sounding deck to frame,
And from soft deal with ease effects the same;
The red-hot pin thro' each side nine times runs,
His grand attempt, a sloop of eighteen guns.
Through deck and bottom then the holes he drills,
Which next he with the main and foremast fills;
Constructs the rigging, ladders, blocks, and sails,
Pliant to meet, or full, or reef'd the gales:
The bottom pitches, and with paint supplied,
With varied gaudy stripes adorns each side;
70
That more majestic it may sail with weight.
In limpid flood his work he sets afloat,
To try the equipoize of his new boat;
With pleasure views it plough the chrystal stream,
And safely dance in flood reflected beam,
The work of pastime, profit soon supplies,
His sloop he ventures, and it proves a prize.
To sons of opulence the toy is shown,
Each youth desires the plaything for his own,
Which purchas'd, yields to Ned's enraptur'd sight,
Two weighty golden guineas, shining bright,
Which, with a pound in store, he puts to trade,
And buys a long-ear'd donkey, well array'd
71
Prepar'd the finny burthen to sustain.
With small beginnings Ned repairs around,
Though small his profits, yet his store is found
Encreasing daily; for where he attends,
On all sides he procures himself new friends.
One to his charge a letter will entrust,
Whose safe deliv'ry proves the stripling just.
A parcel for another is convey'd,
When equal caution is by him display'd:
From valet of some 'squire, for all his care,
Ned gets a coat, but little worse for wear.
From cook the refuse of the pantry earns,
In short, has presents from them all in turns;
72
But to his care would yield up untold gold.
Yet of his chief support this forms no share,
In vending fish consists his ruling care;
Since thence a certain profit he obtains,
The winter's comforts from autumnal gains.
Nor must the muse now let unheeded pass,
Our stripling's conduct to his patient ass:
For Ned's not gifted with an heart of steel,
But knows full well the beast like him can feel;
And with such marks of care the ass doth tend,
As speaks it not a donkey, but a friend.
73
No cruel stripes e'er wail the creature's skin,
For he well knows that gentleness will win;
So rather pats, than urges on by blows,
And thus from kindness all its labour flows.
For he well knows that gentleness will win;
So rather pats, than urges on by blows,
And thus from kindness all its labour flows.
74
Ah! wretched lank-ear'd race, how oft have I
Tow'rd thee been witness of man's cruelty,
How oft beheld thy gall'd and laden back,
Bend 'neath the burthen of the o'ercharg'd pack,
While adding to the load—upon thy rump
Thy lord hath ridden, who, with ceaseless thump,
In cruelty each godlike sense forgot,
Hath urg'd thee, sinking, to encrease thy trot;
And, deaf to all thy groans, with oaths been led
To strike with vehemence o'er eyes and head;
And when at length, upon the flinty road,
Extended lay thy carcase and thy load,
How have I seen the brutal wretch, with stick,
Hail blow on blow; while oft a vicious kick
Hath been applied to thy most feeling part,
And with the thorn of anguish pierc'd thine heart.
Then, with clos'd eyes, I've seen thy swelling breast
Moan forth in suff'ring for the day of rest,
When freed from labour, and return'd to earth,
Nature should nurse thee, who first gave thee birth,
In peace oblivious all thy pangs ensteep,
And lull thee in the arms of lasting sleep.
Tow'rd thee been witness of man's cruelty,
How oft beheld thy gall'd and laden back,
Bend 'neath the burthen of the o'ercharg'd pack,
While adding to the load—upon thy rump
Thy lord hath ridden, who, with ceaseless thump,
In cruelty each godlike sense forgot,
Hath urg'd thee, sinking, to encrease thy trot;
And, deaf to all thy groans, with oaths been led
To strike with vehemence o'er eyes and head;
And when at length, upon the flinty road,
Extended lay thy carcase and thy load,
How have I seen the brutal wretch, with stick,
Hail blow on blow; while oft a vicious kick
Hath been applied to thy most feeling part,
And with the thorn of anguish pierc'd thine heart.
Then, with clos'd eyes, I've seen thy swelling breast
Moan forth in suff'ring for the day of rest,
75
Nature should nurse thee, who first gave thee birth,
In peace oblivious all thy pangs ensteep,
And lull thee in the arms of lasting sleep.
Libra at length the season ushers in,
When hardy smugglers all their toils begin,
In open seine-boat dare the ocean's wiles,
And steer at once towards those well known isles,
Jersey and Guernsey, whence the crews export
Gin, rum, and brandy, with the vin de port.
But oft, in war time, there they feel distress,
A sloop is station'd for an hot impress;
Sweeps off the little crews, and wafts them far,
On board some king's ship destin'd for the war.
In vain expectancy their kindred wait,
Months oft elapse; no tidings of their fate
Arrive to comfort the deploring wife,
Whose husband's toils procur'd the means of life;
Till those escap'd from bullets of the foe,
With peace return to tell the tale of woe:
How Jack by chain-shot fell—or, with a ball,
Dick on the main-deck got a deadly fall;
How Sam, by splinters shiver'd, met his death,
Bless'd children, wife, and friends, with ebbing breath.
Such are the simple stories, which explain
Sad truths, inflicting on their kindred pain;
And such too often proves the fate of those,
Who in the smuggling trade their lives expose.
Yet, for the present let my muse be mute,
Far better will the theme with winter suit,
When, in its fullest extent, I'll rehearse
Its various chances, breath'd in simple verse;
With truth its profits and its perils show,
The first with pleasure fraught—the last with woe.
Tow'rd land now oft October's chilly gales
Full wide expands the culm brig's dusky sails,
When boats incessant rowing from the shore,
Bear from the vessels hold the ebon store.
Then up the hilly shingle horses toil,
To drag the carts, high pil'd with sooty spoil;
With sinews quite distended, reeking climb,
And bear to yards, what's brought for burning lime.
When hardy smugglers all their toils begin,
In open seine-boat dare the ocean's wiles,
And steer at once towards those well known isles,
Jersey and Guernsey, whence the crews export
Gin, rum, and brandy, with the vin de port.
But oft, in war time, there they feel distress,
A sloop is station'd for an hot impress;
Sweeps off the little crews, and wafts them far,
On board some king's ship destin'd for the war.
In vain expectancy their kindred wait,
Months oft elapse; no tidings of their fate
76
Whose husband's toils procur'd the means of life;
Till those escap'd from bullets of the foe,
With peace return to tell the tale of woe:
How Jack by chain-shot fell—or, with a ball,
Dick on the main-deck got a deadly fall;
How Sam, by splinters shiver'd, met his death,
Bless'd children, wife, and friends, with ebbing breath.
Such are the simple stories, which explain
Sad truths, inflicting on their kindred pain;
And such too often proves the fate of those,
Who in the smuggling trade their lives expose.
Yet, for the present let my muse be mute,
Far better will the theme with winter suit,
When, in its fullest extent, I'll rehearse
Its various chances, breath'd in simple verse;
With truth its profits and its perils show,
The first with pleasure fraught—the last with woe.
77
Full wide expands the culm brig's dusky sails,
When boats incessant rowing from the shore,
Bear from the vessels hold the ebon store.
Then up the hilly shingle horses toil,
To drag the carts, high pil'd with sooty spoil;
With sinews quite distended, reeking climb,
And bear to yards, what's brought for burning lime.
At winter's near approach, the finny stores
Visit more sparingly the western shores,
The seine's but seldom cast, and then the spoil,
Full oft, does not repay the owner's toil.
'Tis now, with courage near to madness rais'd,
Ned views the picking samphire—“dreadful trade!”
Shudders, as from the frowning craggy height,
He marks th' advent'rer pendant, risk his weight,
By rope made fast, and round his middle slung,
From dreadful eminence the gath'rer's hung,
Whose eyes above etherial regions greet,
Three hundred yards of vacuum 'neath his feet;
Yawning grim death should evil fate betide,
And hurl the picker thro' the expanse wide;
In vain each feather'd tribe, with downy crest,
Hath deep in aperture secur'd its nest;
In vain, relying on its pow'rs of flight,
Hath built a dwelling far from human sight;
Presumptuous man, still eager to explore
New scenes of wonder, quits the firm set shore,
Each tenant of the rocky region scares,
While for a weed futurity he dares:
For trifling stipend ventures life and hope,
His sole reliance on a simple rope;
Which worn by friction 'gainst some sharp edg'd steep,
Might headlong hurl him thro' the airy deep,
Smash all consistency, and piece-meal strew
His fragile frame, dread spectacle to view.
How strange that some will sole reliance place,
On that which seals another's foul disgrace;
Since by a cord each culprit meets his end,
Which proves the samphire-picker's only friend,
Gives him new life who freely ventur'd death,
And stops his course who only covets breath.
Tow'rd night, returning from such sights as these,
While pensive gazing on the dark'ning seas,
Ned views a bright effulgence light the skies,
Aurora borealis meets his eyes;
The shooting lights thro' heav'n's high concave spread,
From paly hue assume the dye of red,
Grows darker as it wantons o'er the flood,
And ends in colour of transparent blood.
With mingled sentiment the scene he views,
Delight and awe by turns their pow'rs infuse;
Pleas'd, he beholds what's novel to his eye,
Thinks fearfully on him who rules the sky;
And with such sentiments his soul oppress'd,
Hies home, and with his parent's presence bless'd;
Stretch'd on the rug, corporeal labours cease,
And should he dream, his visions are of peace.
The fisherman in Libra still will stay,
To watch for hours the full-grown salmon play;
Throws out the seine, and, with an anxious wish,
Strives to ensure a plenteous haul of fish.
Ned, always steady, to his post proves true,
Receives his share, and buys a portion too:
Then on his donkey bears the glitt'ring stock,
In portions sells it, parted on the block;
With profit satisfied, to toil returns,
And spends with credit what his labour earns.
Visit more sparingly the western shores,
78
Full oft, does not repay the owner's toil.
'Tis now, with courage near to madness rais'd,
Ned views the picking samphire—“dreadful trade!”
Shudders, as from the frowning craggy height,
He marks th' advent'rer pendant, risk his weight,
By rope made fast, and round his middle slung,
From dreadful eminence the gath'rer's hung,
Whose eyes above etherial regions greet,
Three hundred yards of vacuum 'neath his feet;
Yawning grim death should evil fate betide,
And hurl the picker thro' the expanse wide;
In vain each feather'd tribe, with downy crest,
Hath deep in aperture secur'd its nest;
79
Hath built a dwelling far from human sight;
Presumptuous man, still eager to explore
New scenes of wonder, quits the firm set shore,
Each tenant of the rocky region scares,
While for a weed futurity he dares:
For trifling stipend ventures life and hope,
His sole reliance on a simple rope;
Which worn by friction 'gainst some sharp edg'd steep,
Might headlong hurl him thro' the airy deep,
80
His fragile frame, dread spectacle to view.
How strange that some will sole reliance place,
On that which seals another's foul disgrace;
Since by a cord each culprit meets his end,
Which proves the samphire-picker's only friend,
Gives him new life who freely ventur'd death,
And stops his course who only covets breath.
81
While pensive gazing on the dark'ning seas,
Ned views a bright effulgence light the skies,
Aurora borealis meets his eyes;
The shooting lights thro' heav'n's high concave spread,
From paly hue assume the dye of red,
Grows darker as it wantons o'er the flood,
And ends in colour of transparent blood.
With mingled sentiment the scene he views,
Delight and awe by turns their pow'rs infuse;
Pleas'd, he beholds what's novel to his eye,
Thinks fearfully on him who rules the sky;
And with such sentiments his soul oppress'd,
Hies home, and with his parent's presence bless'd;
Stretch'd on the rug, corporeal labours cease,
And should he dream, his visions are of peace.
82
To watch for hours the full-grown salmon play;
Throws out the seine, and, with an anxious wish,
Strives to ensure a plenteous haul of fish.
Ned, always steady, to his post proves true,
Receives his share, and buys a portion too:
Then on his donkey bears the glitt'ring stock,
In portions sells it, parted on the block;
With profit satisfied, to toil returns,
And spends with credit what his labour earns.
Now Scorpio in his turn holds scepter'd sway,
And shrouds with hazy mists the dawn of day,
From shore the tenants of the deep affrights,
Ushers in changeful days and murky nights.
Now muggy heat, now frost, now rain will fly,
Damp, cold, and wet, the constitution try.
And sometimes, as at cottage door Ned stays,
To watch the setting of sol's parting rays,
Far in th' horizon, flush'd with Tyrian glow,
Sails round a point, majestically slow;
With canvass crowded; leading on the train,
An English war-ship, lord of ocean's plain.
Now onward moves a second—then ensue
Two more, which near abreast break on the view:
Augmenting still, the fisher-boy counts nine,
Unconquer'd king's ships of the British line.
In slow succession, then in turns appear,
Eleven oak built turrets in their rear,
Of Albion's bulwarks thus sail on a score,
To fence from enemies our sea-girt shore.
Another to another still succeeds,
Each chronicled alike for thund'ring deeds,
Till in the offing of the buoyant green,
Proud rocking, six and thirty sail are seen;
The grandest, noblest, object that can greet
A Briton's sight—a conqu'ring British fleet:
First prais'd be th' illustrious arms of old,
Which prov'd that England's sea-born race was bold,
Who flourish'd in the days of glorious Bess,
And struck at once to conquer and to bless.
Still after ages, striving to outshine,
In turns the verdant coronet entwine,
Heroes on heroes rose, and glorious now,
To living Britons, sounds the name of Howe,
Who swept the fleets of Gallia from the sea,
And, with her children's blood, wrote victory.
Nor less to Spain does Vincent's name strike dread,
Who, with an equal thirst of glory led,
In harsh ton'd thunder, and in circling fire,
Curb'd those who dar'd to Albion's wreath aspire;
Hail, vet'ran Duncan, Britain owes thee much,
For 'twas thine iron arm disgrac'd the Dutch;
Drove them indignant from the briny deep,
And aw'd by conquest all their pow'r to sleep.
Last, like a blazing comet, Nelson rose,
Who, living, prov'd the fire-brand of our foes;
Who never aim'd the blow, or struck in vain,
By turns subduing France and haughty Spain;
Alike Britannia's safe-guard, and her pride,
By vict'ry nurs'd, and who in conquest died;
Hero, farewell, the muse thy feats reveres,
Droops o'er thine urn, bedew'd with Briton's tears,
In melancholy rapture still is led
To contemplate thy glories with the dead;
And on the page of everlasting fame,
Perpetuate thy valour, deeds, and fame.
Such was the envied prospect of our Ned,
Whose glowing soul, by warmest fancy fed,
Would prompt him to adore his native earth,
And own, with honest pride, his British birth.
Indignant, oft he contemplates the blow,
Aim'd by a vengeful and invading foe:
Prays for the time, when met just half-seas o'er,
Our tars shall ring their knell with cannon's roar,
Hurl them disdainful from Britannia's sight,
And drown presumption in the floods of night.
And shrouds with hazy mists the dawn of day,
83
Ushers in changeful days and murky nights.
Now muggy heat, now frost, now rain will fly,
Damp, cold, and wet, the constitution try.
And sometimes, as at cottage door Ned stays,
To watch the setting of sol's parting rays,
Far in th' horizon, flush'd with Tyrian glow,
Sails round a point, majestically slow;
With canvass crowded; leading on the train,
An English war-ship, lord of ocean's plain.
Now onward moves a second—then ensue
Two more, which near abreast break on the view:
Augmenting still, the fisher-boy counts nine,
Unconquer'd king's ships of the British line.
In slow succession, then in turns appear,
Eleven oak built turrets in their rear,
Of Albion's bulwarks thus sail on a score,
To fence from enemies our sea-girt shore.
84
Each chronicled alike for thund'ring deeds,
Till in the offing of the buoyant green,
Proud rocking, six and thirty sail are seen;
The grandest, noblest, object that can greet
A Briton's sight—a conqu'ring British fleet:
First prais'd be th' illustrious arms of old,
Which prov'd that England's sea-born race was bold,
Who flourish'd in the days of glorious Bess,
And struck at once to conquer and to bless.
Still after ages, striving to outshine,
In turns the verdant coronet entwine,
Heroes on heroes rose, and glorious now,
To living Britons, sounds the name of Howe,
Who swept the fleets of Gallia from the sea,
And, with her children's blood, wrote victory.
Nor less to Spain does Vincent's name strike dread,
Who, with an equal thirst of glory led,
85
Curb'd those who dar'd to Albion's wreath aspire;
Hail, vet'ran Duncan, Britain owes thee much,
For 'twas thine iron arm disgrac'd the Dutch;
Drove them indignant from the briny deep,
And aw'd by conquest all their pow'r to sleep.
Last, like a blazing comet, Nelson rose,
Who, living, prov'd the fire-brand of our foes;
Who never aim'd the blow, or struck in vain,
By turns subduing France and haughty Spain;
Alike Britannia's safe-guard, and her pride,
By vict'ry nurs'd, and who in conquest died;
Hero, farewell, the muse thy feats reveres,
Droops o'er thine urn, bedew'd with Briton's tears,
In melancholy rapture still is led
To contemplate thy glories with the dead;
And on the page of everlasting fame,
Perpetuate thy valour, deeds, and fame.
86
Whose glowing soul, by warmest fancy fed,
Would prompt him to adore his native earth,
And own, with honest pride, his British birth.
Indignant, oft he contemplates the blow,
Aim'd by a vengeful and invading foe:
Prays for the time, when met just half-seas o'er,
Our tars shall ring their knell with cannon's roar,
Hurl them disdainful from Britannia's sight,
And drown presumption in the floods of night.
| The Fisher Boy | |