University of Virginia Library

PEACE.

Though late, the Muse, on Abercrombie's hearse,
Hung her vain wreath of tributary verse;
And still would paint with no ungraceful art,
His Kempt's high purpose, and benignant heart.
One of the favor'd few, who best might claim
A portion of his friendship, or his fame.
Now brighter scenes attract her fond survey,
Scenes that entice the wanderer on her way,
And festive pleasures, drest in florid bloom,
Indignant, chide her ling'ring o'er the tomb.
Hark! the loud cannon from the Julian tow'r,
With harmless thunder scares the midnight hour!
Th' illumin'd domes their mimic stars display,
And Thames' blue breast reflects a softer day!
Again, majestic river! on thy tide,
In splendid state shall anch'ring navies ride;
Again, shall rapture hear, thy banks along,
The seaman's whistle join the shepherd's song;
And sun-burnt commerce waft, with patient smile,
The wealth of worlds to her distinguish'd isle.
Lo! where the woe-worn widow, trembling stands,
And lifts to heav'n her supplicating hands;
Lo! where the virgin, thrill'd with doubt severe,
In modest anguish hides the trickling tear!
Mourners, look up, and live! infectious air,
Nor prison'd want, nor comfortless despair,
Could from your sailor's faithful soul remove
The stubborn ties of duty and of love.
Yes! he shall come, with fond assiduous care,
To soothe your sorrows, or at least to share;
The manly strength, which oft, with lion-force,
Through death's dire breach could urge its dauntless course;
Once more shall for your helpless age provide,
And shield you from the coward-taunt of pride!
Methinks, escap'd by chance, from thousands slain,
Proud of his wounds, and triumphing in pain,
Fame-fed, awhile forgetful he is poor,
I see the soldier ope his native door!
The latch, by him untouch'd for many a year,
Leaps to his hand!—and oh! what scenes appear!
The wond'ring wife, approaching from afar,
Scarce knows his face, deform'd with many a scar;
The tott'ring grandsire, though his eye-sight fail,
Feels the superior sense, within, prevail;
The ready stool his prattling tribe prepare,
Their wild black eyes upturn'd with dubious stare;
Aside the knapsack's hairy wonder thrust;
Or, from the polish'd musquet rub the rust.
Then fledg'd with down, the hurrying moments fly.
O'er many a question, many a quick reply,
Fell siege, and fatal storm, and ambuscade,
In dying embers on the hearth pourtray'd;
'Till wearied toil, to needful rest withdrawn,
Adjourns th' unfinish'd story to the dawn.
Cherubic Peace! whose wond'rous power can save
Contending empires from the gaping grave,
When, like an earthquake, felt by Nature's groans,
Gigantic discord shakes establish'd thrones,
And stooping from the whirlwind's wing sublime,
His huge scythe seizes from the grasp of Time,
Prepar'd, with one exterminating blow,
To lay the labours of creation low.
Again, beneath thy joy-inspiring shade,
The chearful artizan shall ply his trade,
Shape into symmetry the fluid mass
Of pliant steel, or fire-tormented brass:
Or stamp on kingly gold the monarch's head,
No more condemn'd to mould the murd'rous lead.
Again, encourag'd by the halcyon-sway,
Wealth's merchant-sons shall crowd the busy quay,
With costly cargoes load the shining ground,
And pour rich plenty on each coast around.
E'en the poor captive, whose disastrous doom,
Has hurl'd him to the dungeon's dreary gloom,
With kind compassion sooth'd, shall gladly know,
That Britain venerates a fallen foe,
Fond, with soft skill, to close each cruel scar,
And heal the gashes of remorseless war.
Yet must I mourn your lot, unhappy band!
Who pine at distance from your natal land,
Doom'd, in unpitied misery to roam,
Abroad deserted, and despis'd at home;
For I have often mark'd your lonely way,
When hast'ning from the giddy and the gay,
Some dark, congenial solitude, you sought,
In whisper'd plaint t' impart the tender thought;
While the unfeeling hind, who ne'er could boast
Of fortune's favour, or bemoan'd it, lost,
Whose heart ne'er own'd Humanity's sweet glow,
Unsympathizing, scoff'd your social woe.
Say, why should party's baneful pest divide
The panting lover from his promis'd bride?
The finer fibres of affection rend,
And plant hostility 'twixt friend and friend?
Yes! let the exil'd victim view, once more,
His vintage swell, though double-dy'd in gore;
Lord of himself, in his own mansion stand,
And share the harvest, planted by his hand.
Ah! would ambition learn his proper bound,
Nor rear th' aspiring front terrific crown'd
With sanguine gems, and lurid laurels, seen
But seldom 'mid the olive's bashful green;
Would temp'rate Reason's philosophic rule
Assuage his frenzy, and his hot blood cool,
Instilling gentler cares of home-felt joy,
And sheath the sword, impatient to destroy;
Soon would those souls, that fir'd the recent flight,
In sacred league symphoniously unite;
Divine conviction, with Orphean skill,
Subdue to milder ends the savage will;
Each weed extirpate from the mental mould,
And a fresh growth of fairer bloom unfold.
Thou, too, dejected vestal! doom'd to find,
For thy pure train, no habitation kind;
Thou, like the weary dove, who long hast flown
O'er a vile world, immerg'd in vices of its own;
Religion! thou shouldst view, with glad surprise,
Thy temples o'er the impious deluge rise,
And flooding Infidelity retreat
Before the pressure of thy sainted feet!
Vainly, would human arrogance deny,
The pow'rs that in thy dread commission lie;
Vainly, would his prepost'rous dream advance
To heaven's high seat the anarchy of chance;
And print upon the yielding heart of youth,
The poet's fiction, not th' apostle's truth,
Rude health impair'd, this idle mock'ry fled,
When sickness plants with thorns his burning bed,
When conscience self her gorgon-mirror rears,
And shakes her snaky scourge, and slights his tears,
Where shall the God-abandon'd look for ease,
Who laugh'd, so Intely, at his just decrees?
Where, but to that exulting fiend, whose praise
He toil'd to celebrate in happier days.
Oh, Faith! oh, spotless Piety! awhile
Retard your flight from our deluded isle!
Yet, will its children learn your holy law;
Yet, hear your melting lore, with contrite awe;
Yet, spurn the miscreant-tribe, who madly stain
With error's dust your angel-guarded fane;
Redress your martyrs, who in silence grieve,
And bid the nations tremble, and believe!
The time is near, (by prophecy imprest,
The big idea bursts my lab'ring breast!)
When baffled factions shall, at length, subside,
And rigid virtue be our surer guide;
Rough industry, with honest hardship brown,
Shall, in domestic quiet, lay him down,
In simple charms, and decent plenty blest,
Light slumbers shall o'ershade his nightly rest,
Of spirit blithe, and vig'rous with repose,
Content attend him as to toil he goes,
And transport, fled from palace-down, adorn
The blushful beauties of each welcome morn.
Intent, from history's prolific page,
To cull the sweets of each immortal sage,
Far from presuming Folly's painful glare,
Shall Learning trim his lamp, with pensive care,
Concentrate ev'ry beam of thought refin'd,
And pour meridian lustre on the mind.
The reptile-race of dulness, that devour
The freshest blossoms of the muse's bow'r,
Whose venom'd rancour has so long defac'd
Th' untainted trophies of impartial taste,
As smote, Ithuriel! by thy lightning spear,
Shall shrink, and hide the guilty head in fear:
The muse herself, in such divine array,
As when she purg'd her Milton's visual ray,
Or, with the glorious visitation warm,
To Avon's bard reveal'd her awful form,
And, proud her utmost favors to impart,
Unlock'd the secret sluices of the heart,
A more exalted portance shall assume,
And in Britannia raise another Rome.
No dauntless chief shall then expire in vain,
Prescrved by the imperishable strain;
No statesman then, without a song sincere,
The cumb'rous burthen of a country bear;
The stately epic shall prolong his praise,
Borne on the tide of time to distant days,
And future states confess his wisdom, crown'd
With all the magic of melodious sound.
No more, to merit ignorantly blind,
Shall pomp, in solemn secrecy enshrin'd,
Bestow on flatt'ry the misjudging ear,
While unregarded worth stands shiv'ring near
Those, whose superior talents boldly claim
Respectful homage to a noble name;
Who look'd on fortune with unalter'd eye,
Prompt, or to greatly live, or bravely die;
Or, by some grand emprize, aspir'd above
All meaner toys to universal love;
Corruption chaining to its loathsome den,
Shall triumph in desert, and feel as men!
Approving Britain, steady to confide
In truth, so often by her fathers tried,
When shrinking the pale crest from circling foes,
Her languid lilly woo'd the hardier rose,
And, emulative touch'd with gen'rous shame,
Shall fan true Freedom's undiminish'd flame;
And weigh'd impartial in her golden scales,
O'er lordly pow'r the peasant's plea prevails;
All legal labyrinths of dull delay,
Develop'd to the candid eye of day;
Themis, from heav'n descending, shall behold
A George's virtues grace an age of gold.