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 | Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 |  |
219
VERSES ON Gen. Braddock's defeat.
—Mares animos in martia bella
Versibus exacuit.
Versibus exacuit.
[The dying general speaks.]
Then 'tis decreed—the vain exulting Gaul,
In these ill-fated fields beholds my fall.
But let not Britain, when she hears the tale,
In timid indolence my fate bewail.
O! rather let her sons, unus'd to fear,
To women leave the tribute of the tear:
A brave revenge alone becomes the brave,
A brave revenge these dying heroes crave.
See where their mangled limbs bestrew the field:
Firm, undismay'd, unknowing how to yield.
Behold them with their latest gasp of breath,
Implore their country to revenge their death.
May Britain then let loose her vengeful ire,
Redouble force repeated wrongs require;
Each active hand with martial error arm,
Each martial bosom with her spirit warm:
So haughty Gaul, when her exploits she hears,
Shall with her ill-starr'd triumph mix her fears;
As midnight-thieves, that wrapt in vile disguise
Have made some luckless traveller their prize,
Afraid of justice, drop the booty won,
And tremble for the mischief they have done.
In vain the fetter'd Gaul prepares his chains,
For British freedom, ev'n in India's plains.
Great George, born to command the free and brave,
Shall break his weapons, and chastise the slave.
My blood I freely spill; rejoic'd to make
The first libation for fair Freedom's sake.
For, as in Greece of old, the warrior's meed
For liberty, is nobly thus to bleed.
In these ill-fated fields beholds my fall.
But let not Britain, when she hears the tale,
In timid indolence my fate bewail.
O! rather let her sons, unus'd to fear,
To women leave the tribute of the tear:
A brave revenge alone becomes the brave,
A brave revenge these dying heroes crave.
See where their mangled limbs bestrew the field:
Firm, undismay'd, unknowing how to yield.
Behold them with their latest gasp of breath,
Implore their country to revenge their death.
May Britain then let loose her vengeful ire,
Redouble force repeated wrongs require;
Each active hand with martial error arm,
Each martial bosom with her spirit warm:
So haughty Gaul, when her exploits she hears,
Shall with her ill-starr'd triumph mix her fears;
As midnight-thieves, that wrapt in vile disguise
Have made some luckless traveller their prize,
220
And tremble for the mischief they have done.
In vain the fetter'd Gaul prepares his chains,
For British freedom, ev'n in India's plains.
Great George, born to command the free and brave,
Shall break his weapons, and chastise the slave.
My blood I freely spill; rejoic'd to make
The first libation for fair Freedom's sake.
For, as in Greece of old, the warrior's meed
For liberty, is nobly thus to bleed.
Here then I chearful quit life's poor remains,
For glory well exchang'd in martial plains:
In future times, (nor do I boast in vain),
When Britain numbers o'er her warrior train;
When time my errors shall obliterate,
And veil my faults in pity to my fate;
In the fair list perhaps shall stand his name,
Who thro' these regions shew'd the road to fame;
Who 'midst these pathless wilds, and streams that roll
From sources unexplor'd, first taught the Gaul
That Britain's freeborn sons, inspir'd by fame,
Nor danger daunts, nor toilsome marches tame.
What though by me these ill-starr'd heroes led,
With me, oppress'd by numbers, fought and bled?
What tho' our blood these barb'rous currents dye,
To savage rage expos'd our bodies lie?
Yet still our name a terror shall remain,
For length of ages to the servile train.
Oft shall these warrior shades, who sullen rove
Along th' o'er shaded stream or twilight grove,
Or o'er savannahs drear, in dread array,
By moonlight gleam their marshal'd ranks display,
Affright the Gaul, whose dazzled fancy sees
The horrid armour glitt'ring through the trees.
His shrivell'd soul within him dies with fear,
Whilst bursts of imag'd cannon wound his ear.
Nor will our pensive ghosts one comfort know,
Till destin'd vengeance overtake the foe;
Till (servile Gaul expell'd) fix'd in these plains
By British valour, British freedom reigns.
For glory well exchang'd in martial plains:
In future times, (nor do I boast in vain),
When Britain numbers o'er her warrior train;
When time my errors shall obliterate,
And veil my faults in pity to my fate;
In the fair list perhaps shall stand his name,
Who thro' these regions shew'd the road to fame;
Who 'midst these pathless wilds, and streams that roll
From sources unexplor'd, first taught the Gaul
That Britain's freeborn sons, inspir'd by fame,
Nor danger daunts, nor toilsome marches tame.
What though by me these ill-starr'd heroes led,
With me, oppress'd by numbers, fought and bled?
What tho' our blood these barb'rous currents dye,
To savage rage expos'd our bodies lie?
Yet still our name a terror shall remain,
For length of ages to the servile train.
Oft shall these warrior shades, who sullen rove
Along th' o'er shaded stream or twilight grove,
Or o'er savannahs drear, in dread array,
By moonlight gleam their marshal'd ranks display,
221
The horrid armour glitt'ring through the trees.
His shrivell'd soul within him dies with fear,
Whilst bursts of imag'd cannon wound his ear.
Nor will our pensive ghosts one comfort know,
Till destin'd vengeance overtake the foe;
Till (servile Gaul expell'd) fix'd in these plains
By British valour, British freedom reigns.
| Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 | |