A Metrical History of England Or, Recollections, in Rhyme, Of some of the most prominent Features in our National Chronology, from the Landing of Julius Caesar to the Commencement of the Regency, in 1812. In Two Volumes ... By Thomas Dibdin |
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 | A Metrical History of England |  |
“God save the King!”
Carey.
“Who aids their joys, and sorrows in their woes;
“Who, deaf to prejudice when vesting power,
“Bestows promotion but as virtue's dower;
“Who menial parasites expels the throne,
“And deems all public freedom's foes his own.”
“Investigation,” a Poem by C. Dibdin, Jun.
“With wealth and fair encrease;
“Let him abroad be far renown'd,
“And blest at home with peace.”
Hughes.
“The works of public spirit, freedom, peace;
“By them shall plants in forests reach the skies,
“Then lose their leafy pride, and navies rise;
“(Navies! which to invasive foes explain,
“Heaven throws not round us rocks and seas in vain;)
“The sail of commerce in each sky aspires,
“And property assures what toil acquires.
“Him the same laws the same protection yield,
“Who plows the furrow, as who owns the field.”
Savage.
“Throughout his holy life was amiable,
“Dispensing blessings ever o'er his realms;
“Under th' Almighty's visitation lies,
“Fast bound! close lock'd!
“Most merciful, just God!
“As thou still sendest kindly, genial warmth
“The bands of winter in due time to loose,
“So may it please thee to restore
“To reason, health, and happiness, our King!”
Waldron's Literary Museum.
GEORGE THE THIRD.
Since Time who subjects empires to decay,And mingles palaces with cottage clay;
Since Time destroy'd the gloomy bigots trade,
And brought Nassau and Brunswick to our aid,
No day more big with glorious hope we own,
Than that which seated George on Britain's throne.
With conquest flush'd, tho' tired of war
(For war lays taxes,) was the nation;
Yet naval vict'ries, near and far,
Brought to our pride some consolation;
For pride, aspiring like a rocket,
Too oft soars high above the pocket.
Retires, of years and honors plenum;
So firm, yet mild, his office did he bear,
That, in debate, no wranglers dare
Proceed if once he stepp'd between 'em.
In wedlock, hard (you'll own) the fate of Kings,
Debarr'd the meanest subject's right,—free choice;
Forced to accept what state convenience brings,
And haply mourn while all around rejoice!
Not so our George, bless'd by the pow'rs above
With a free, brave, and gen'rous people's love,
To yield him happiness without alloy,
Kind fortune, for the monarch's joy,
Brings Charlotte in propitious hour,
To sooth the toils of state and power:
Brings Charlotte, drest in Hymen's softest smiles,
To bless the ruler of the British isles;
To share that happy sovereign's throne
Who found the nation's choice his own.
Ah, think how many years have proved
How worthy him the bride he loved;
While Time's true test bids envy own
Charlotte as Queen, as Mother, Friend and Wife,
The pride of public, as of private, life!
France seem'd just now for peace disposed,
But Chatham's scrutinizing mind
A compact en famille disclosed,
By which the French, with Spain combined,
Their blended interest to our's opposed,
Pitt said to Britain “Don't be fool'd,”
Pitt's council sage was overrul'd,
And he resign'd.
The French, after making overtures for peace, depending on the private support of Spain, insisted on inadmissable terms; and a treaty, called the Family compact, being entered into between France and Spain, Mr. Pitt proposed hostilities against the latter, which advice being rejected, he, with Lord Temple, resigned.
Keppel and Hodgson took Belleisle;
While indefatigable Clive,
Kept Indian interest quite alive.
A Speaker chuse, chose Sir John Cust!
And, reader, the next thing they do,
Proved all that Pitt foreboded true;
For war with Spain, to trade's derangement,
Succeeds the “Family arrangement.”
Pocock and Albermarle now raise
Our honor far beyond my praise;
Nor dare I waste my ink and paper
With strains unworthy gallant Draper;
Who, join'd with all victorious Cornish,
Made Spanish leaders look forlornish.
Next to compleat our exultation,
In Charlotte's first-born England sees
The hope of a delighted nation;
A Prince now fortuned to sustain,
With much of care and little ease,
The pressure of a troublous reign,
In times when he who all can please
Must be “the Devil or Doctor Faustus!”
Admiral Sir George Pococke, and General the Earl of Albermarle, took the Capital of the Isle of Cuba from the Spaniards; nine Spanish ships of the line, spices and merchandise to the amount of more than three millions sterling, were the produce of this victory.
Admiral Cornish and General Draper took Manilla, the Capital of the Phillippine Islands; and two British frigates took the Hermione, a Spanish register ship worth a million sterling.
“No less than a disturbed ghost,
“Which visited Cock-Lane;
“The neighbourhood around were shock'd,
“For oh, at night, it scratch'd and knock'd,
“And knock'd and scratch'd again!”
The belligerents all agree:
And, peace once signed between those elves,
We 'gin to quarrel—with ourselves;
Great discontents are kept alive
By “Wilkes! and Number Forty Five!”
Long Wilkes disputes the hand of pow'r,
Which gives him lodgings in the Tower;
Fights, travels, writes, and treats the nation,
No doubt, with great illumination.
And for that cause,
He gain'd—much trouble, some applause,
And there the matter ended.
The ingenious Mr.Luffman, in his Elements of History and Chronology, observes, “Before we part with Mr. Wilkes, it must be allowed, that whether he acted from principle or resentment, he was a means of strengthening the just liberties of the people, by the noble stand he made against General Warrants, a remnant of the Star Chamber of Charles the First, and for which the British nation ought ever to be grateful.” It is, however, to be observed, that the patriotism of this gentleman terminated in (or was rewarded by) a place for life.
The people's champions, foes to power,
Who write, and fight, and court the Tower;
While Johnny Bull, their pains to pay,
Gives 'em a popular huzza,
And thinks of something else in half an hour.
A second time the Queen, to England's joy,
Presents her royal consort with a boy;
Frederick, may thou and the succeeding line
Of Brunswick long the royal stem entwine:
While that, unbending as it's nation's oak,
Shall scorn the pressure of a foreign yoke.
Under the guidance of unequall'd Clive,
From Cossim Ally Cawn a check receives,
Which Clive's good arm and genius soon retrieves;
And Cossim mourns the British blood he shed,
When turban'd chiefs, by basest treach'ry led,
The halls of Patna with foul murder stain'd,
And lost their honor, ne'er to be regain'd.
Cossim took up arms against the English, and, having taken several prisoners at Patna, he caused forty officers and gentlemen of the East India Company, besides others of inferior rank, to be massacred; but in the end he was defeated.
To Brunswick's Duke:—to his paternal land
He bears the fair, and from this union springs
The hope, perspective, of a race of Kings.
Churchill and Hogarth, much we grieve to say,
The awful debt of nature pay;
Even genius, oft to poverty a brother,
Pays that when haply he can pay no other.
Which force Columbia to defend her home;
Into a foe translated many a friend,
And in American enlargement end.
Changes are made, in hopes to serve the nation,
And lo! a Rockingham administration
To take the helm of government began,
And bought of Athol's Duke the Isle of Man.
From George and Charlotte's union springing,
A third son sets the bells a ringing;
And William Henry glads the royal pair,
Whose union proves as fortunate as rare.
Events most opposite succeed each other,
Rejoicing in a son the sovereign mourns a brother,
And to the ruthless tyrant death,
The Old Pretender yields his breath.
Prince Frederick William died this year, as did al o the Chevalier de St. George, commonly styled the Old Pretender; the Dauphin of France, and the Emperor of Germany.
The Stamp Act that repeal takes place;
The Ministers resign, and now arose
The Grafton Government:—to aid his grace,
And Chatham, high in honorable fame.
Our merchants, vastly fond of exportation,
The want of other states to aid,
Sent so much corn from out the nation
That we were almost famish'd by the trade;
And folks who didn't chuse to starve in quiet,
(One don't know how to blame them,) made a riot.
Merchants! 'ere thus again for pelf ye roam,
“Remember, charity begins at home.”
Michaelmas-day a Princess Royal gave us,
Now Queen of Wirtemberg; so made
By one to whom King-making is a trade,
From which, on England's shore, kind fortune save us!
King George's sister, Caroline, is seen
The bride of Christian and Denmark's Queen.
In India, war with savage fury roars,
'Till Clive again goes out and peace restores;
Edward of York submits to fate.
Sujah Dowlah espoused the cause of Cossim, the deposed Nabob of Bengal; and such was the neglect of the Government there, that notwithstanding the victories of General Carnac, it was thought necessary to send out Lord Clive, who, upon his arrival, restored the peace of the country, by a treaty of alliance with the Mogul Emperor.
Edward, since 'titled Duke of Kent;
Paoli seeks asylum on our shore;
The Jesuits' Order falls to rise no more;
And, (what strange medley of historic lore!)
The Irish Pailiaments, which erst extended,
'Till each incipient reign was ended,
Are now decreed octennial and no more.
King George resumes King William's grant of lands
To Portland's Duke:—this case relief demands,
And a Bill pass'd, for common weal,
This old law maxim to repeal,
(Law latin always puts me in a worrit,)
Nullum tempus Regi occurrit;
Which means, in spite of time, the throne
May legally reclaim it's own.
And, ecce iterum! Mr. Wilkes
Committed is in Banco Regis,
(More latin!) which the mob besieges;
And Allen, guiltless of the strife,
To party fury yields his life.
In London Pleasure takes the rein,
To welcome here the royal Dane;
Nor less to greet with heart-felt mirth,
The day that gave Augusta birth.
Again we're plunged in strange convulsion,
By Wilkes' election and expulsion;
Chatham and Shelburne's resignation,
Make room for North's administration.
The Eastern native chieftains rally
Against our pow'r round Hyder Ally;
When, sad to tell, Vansittart, Scrafton, Ford,
Who to our aid in India meant to sail,
Encounter on the seas so dread a gale,
That down the vessel sank with ev'ry soul on board.
And far remove all hope of peace;
At home the Commons meet, and chuse
Sir Fletcher Norton Speaker; who,
As History informs the Muse,
Gave them no cause their choice to rue.
Another Princess blest the royal pair,
In whose delight their people truly share;
Eliza, thy oft prov'd domestic worth,
Credits the public joy which graced thy birth.
Our docks at Plymouth set on fire,
Proclaim how hot our foemen's ire;
And a hush'd up fracas with Spain,
Gives ground to look for war again.
The cause of Wilkes, with fresh commotion,
Makes London like a troubled ocean;
One side against the other pitted,
A Mayor and Alderman committed;
Which party heats cause great regret,
Evils not much diminish'd yet.
The Queen again presents her lord a Prince,
Ernest, the King's fifth son, and since
The Muse laments the death of Gray,
Were all superfluous—when genius dies
Death proves the bitterest of enemies!
The monument of young Allen in Newington church-yard, which is also a monument of party spirit, relates the tragie end of this young man, who was followed into a cow-house by one of the guards and shot, during a riot for Wilkes in St. George's Fields.
Against the Upper House, they scout
All money bills by Lords amended,
And, practically, kick 'em out.
Our roy l parent's mother finds that bourne
From whence, 'tis truly said, there's no return;
Augustus, to our list of Princes adding,
Sets all our loyal lads and lasses madding.
America again essays to gain
Her freedom, nor, at length, essays in vain;
Congress assembles first, we're bid remember
Upon the fifth (of all days,) in November,
Adolphus Fred'rick to the royal tree
Adds a new branch; Furneaux, in happy time,
And brings Omiah from his native clime.
Much of debate, hot rancour, and ill will,
Precedes a war from which there's no retreating;
America maintains the contest still,
With various issues:—but at Bunker's Hill,
From British bands Columbia gets a beating.
Now Washington, true patriot! arose,
Shield of his country, terror of his foes;
Second Cincinnatus, yet greater far,
The first with savage nations urg'd the war.
But Washington, a rude untutor'd host
Against the chosen sons of Britain led;
Against a band, their country's pride and boast,
With names like Howe and Clinton at their head.
No farther here the struggle let us trace,
Enough to say, by Washington defended,
Columbia gain'd her point, and with good grace
We own'd her free, and thus the contest ended.
'Twas then the patriot warrior began
Prove how the hero rose above the man;
No wrested rule bedecks his brow or hand,
Proud to resign as to assume command;
Chief of the Free, with freedom he lays down
A sacred trust confided by the land.
This is true greatness!! In his hall of state
What conqueror, tho' lord of half the earth
Inspires that awe, to which the cottage gate
Of Washington for ages must give birth?
Oh, Guerdon rich! what royalty above,
The glorious empire of a People's Love!!
What else cou'd George's sceptre have sustain'd,
Through times, as “out of joint,” as Hist'ry knows?
Yet midst this “age of reason,” George has gain'd,
Respect, not e'en witheld him from his foes.
The Common: asserted their exclusive privilege of having, all Money Bills either rejected, or passed without amendment by the other House; two Money Bills, returned by the Lords with amendments, were flung over the table by the Speaker, and kick'd out of the House by the Merabers.
It was not till the year 1783 that Great Britain, at the general pacification, acknowledged the independence of America.
To rage between Britannia, France, and Spain;
With joy we next announce, the theme to vary,
The Birth propitious of our Princess Mary;
And tho' our verse may ill the task assume,
Yet History must weep the death of Hume.
Behold where Britain's naval treasures burn;
Portsmouth! the billows which thy harbours lave
Reflect fell fires in ev'ry curling wave.
Aitken, like him who fired th' Ephesian fane,
In felon reputation will remain;
Nay! the Muse fears of treason you'll attaint her,
That rogue for only naming—John the Painter.
Sophia, newly-born, with infant voice,
Bids England's father and his sons rejoice.
Amidst the heat of senatorial strife,
Chatham appears with fast retiring breath,
And where his country claim'd his well spent life,
Makes a last effort for her cause in death.
Now Cockneys, as they gravely walk,
In consequential tones,
Of Coxheath Camp and Keppel talk,
And wonder at Paul Jones.
“Ye chiefs of the ocean your laurels throw by,
“Or the cypress entwine with each wreath,
“And a tear now let fall for his death:
“Yet the genius of Britain forbids us to grieve,
“Since Cooke ever honoured, immortal shall live.”
So sang a Bard, when Cooke's regretted blood
Ting'd on Owyhee's fatal shore the flood;
Unrival'd chief! who found a cruel grave
From those his generous feelings sought to save!
To former joys of royal sire and mother
Octavius is born to add another.
And now reluctantly we tell
What the Metropolis befel,
From lawless villains who defame,
To grace their guilt, religion's name:
“No Popery,” the fact ous cry
That led to deeds of blackest dye;
“No Popery” the signal dire
To light up Discord's fiercest fire;
And London sees, in pale amaze,
Her palaces and temples blaze;
Her magistrates stand idly by,
While conflagration braves the sky.
See retribution now advance;
Then caution, 'camp'd beneath our walls,
At length the rabble rout appals;
And Gordon nearly pays with life,
The forfeit of the lawless strife
Which, with most inconsiderate head,
And frantic zeal of late he led.
These riots, the worst that ever disgraced a civilized nation, lasted from the 30th of May till the 8th of June, during which time the rioters were absolute masters of the metropolis and its environs; many chapels and houses were demolished, and their contents committed to the flames; Newgate, the King's Bench, and the Fleet Prisons, were set on fire, and the prisoners liberated. The Bank was twice attacked, but without effect; and 36 fires were visible at one time, from an eminence near Hampstead. The numbers killed and wounded in the streets and on Blackfriars bridge, amounted to six hundred, independent of many whose wounds were privately attended, from their not wishing to have it known they had been concerned in the tumult. Several of the principal rioters were hanged at, or near the places where outrages were committed. Lord George was committed to the Tower for high treason, at first a close prisoner, but, after some time had clapsed, he had more indulgence, and was eventually acquitted on his trial.
To fearless British captain Fielding;
Behold, where Parker's genius rises,
To fill our ports with gallant prizes;
See Rodney master of Langara's fleet;
Digby and Geary swell our victories,
And Rodney's flag again triumphant flies.
Alfred the royal stock encreases;
Cornwall succeeds as Mister Speaker;
All hope of peace grows daily weaker,
And for a time entirely ceases.
The Dutch Admiral, Count Byland, struck his flag to Captain Fielding, rather than submit to a question of search;—Rear Admiral Parker sent home a vast number of French and Spanish prizes;—Admiral Sir George Rodney, after taking a Spanish 64, with her convoy of 22 merchant ships, gained a complete victory over the squadron commanded by Don Juan De Langara, five sail of the line were taken, and one blew up;—Rear Admiral Digby took a French 64;—Admiral Rowley captured two large French frigates; and Admiral Parker took a convoy of nine sail, from Martinico;—the Salisbury took a Spanish 50 gun ship;—Rodney defeated Admiral De Guichen;—Admiral Geary took eleven sail of merchant vessels; and Captain Edward Moore, of the Fame privateer of Dublin, with his single ship took 4 French Letters of Marque.
T'is our's impartially to tell,
That fifty-five as gallant ships
As ever took commercial trips,
Happ'ning by sad mischance to meet
The Gallico-Iberian fleet,
Captive to England's enemies.
War with the Dutch adds to our troubles,
And trade's embarrassment redoubles.
If I mistake, 'tis your's to judge it,
But only overhaul the Budget
Which, for the service of the year,
Will millions, twenty-three appear;
Thousands, seven hundred fifty-six,
And hundreds, (as accountants fix,)
Some one or two;—a sum so great
Had ne'er before disturb'd the state;
But “damned custom” hath, as now one sees,
“Made it” to us “a property of ease.”
The French take Jersey, 'ere the dawn of light,
Only to quit it with returning night.
Ne'er shall the genuine, grateful tear,
Cease to embalm brave Pierson's bier;
A soldier's honor'd, glorious, grave.
A large outward-bound West India fleet and five East Indiamen, in all about 55 ships, unfortunately fell into the midst of the combined fleets of France and Spain, in the bay of Gadiz, in the night between the 8th and 9th of August, and were almost all taken.
The gallant Major Pierson, with the assistance of Captains Aylward and Mulcaster, and the militia of the island, re-took the town of St. Hellear, which had capitulated (under Governor Corbett,) to the French General; who, as well as Major Pierson, was slain in the re-capture.
And (all the pains we can to save ye),
We very willingly excuse,
Too close attendance on the Muse,
Who means her duty to discharge in
Enumeration, “as per margin. ”
Rodney, in conjunction with General Vaughan, took the important Dutch settlement of St. Eustatia, with the islands of St. Martin and Saba; a Dutch frigate, 5 sloops of war, and 150 sail of merchantmen;—a Dutch 60 gun ship, and 30 sail of merchantmen were taken by Captain Reynolds.—Rodney afterwards took Demerara, Issiquebo, and St. Bartholomew;—Admiral Darby relieved Gibraltar;—Admiral Parker defeated the Dutch, under Zoutman, in a great battle off the Dogger Bank;—and Admiral Kempenfelt beat a French squadron, from which he took 19 sail of transports and merchantmen laden with ordnance and naval stores.
Nor Arbuthnot, ('tis battles fate,)
Nor Graves, nor Hotham, each as brave
As any he that stems the wave,
Had such good fortune in their fighting,
As those of whom we've just been writing.
Under the flag of Hyder Ally;
Who, join'd by Fortune, murrain fetch her!
Defeated Baillie and bold Fletcher.
In seventeen hundred eighty-two,
The Parliament found much to do;
Each party t'other undermining,
Which ended in Lord North's resigning:
Him scarcely Rockingham in pow'r replaced,
With “royal honors guarded round and graced,”
When Death, who sometimes sides with opposition,
Made room for a new state physician.
FOX now resigns; and, lo! where sit
In council, Shelburnf, Townshend, Pitt;
The former ministry began
The latter well pursued the plan,
And met successful termination.
The curse of human slaughter 'gins to cease,
Old England and America shake hands;
All Continental Europe bows to peace,
While commerce promises encrease,
Where war late drain'd so many luckless lands.
Vice Admiral Arbuthnot engaged the French fleet under Monsieur de Ternay, off Virginia, the action was indecisive, and the British squadron much damaged—Commodore Hotham, while convoying the St. Eustatia fleet, was intercepted by M. la Motte Piquet, with seven sail of the line, who captured twenty-one of the merchantmen; and the British fleet under Admiral Graves had an unsuccessful engagement with the French (commanded by M. Du Barras) in the Bay of Chesapeake.
Hyder Ally invaded the province of Arcot, surprised a detachment of British who were marching to its relief, under Colonels Baillie and Fletcher, killed and took 508 of the British including a great number of officers, and 3300 of the native troops in our service.
(Hear critic to thy great confusion,
We cannot let a poor pun pass,)
Made the foe once more cry peccavi,
And to the dashing Gallic navy
Gave, as it were, a Coup De Grasse.
Whate'er of such a joke the sin,
I still say “let those laugh who win!”
The honor'd, valiant name of Hood;
“And ever as that day returns,
“The Muse her tale shall tell,
“And sing her sorrow o'er the urns
“Of those who bravely fell;
“And weave immortal wreaths of fame,
“O'er Blair, and Manners' deathless name.”
To list of heroes add we now
Brave Digby, Barrington, and Howe;
Nor must bold Curtis be forgot,
Of whom it was the envied lot,
To deal his indignation hot
On Spanish prows, and with disgrace
To drive them from Gibraltar's base;
Where matchless Elliot cheers his dauntless band,
Firm as the rock on which the warriors stand.
Hughes and Suffrein with each a fleet
In action indecisive meet,
A score, of which the reader knows.
On the memorable 12th of August, Rodney beat Degrasse, and took him in the Ville de Paris, with 3 other line of battle ships and sank one.—Seven days afterwards, Sir Samuel Hood took two more ships of the line, in which glorious action Captain Blair of the Anson, and Lord Robert Manners who commanded the Resolution, were killed.—About the same time Admiral Barrington took the Pegase of 74 guns, the Actionnaire of 64, and 10 sail of transports. Admiral Howe relieved Gibraltar which Elliot had most nobly defended, and the Spanish batteries were destroyed by the brave Sir Roger Curtis.
Our losses at the close of the war were, the island of Minorca, taken by the Spaniards; St. Eustatius, and St. Martin's, taken by the French,—the Ville de Paris, Glorieux, Hector, Centaur, and Ramillies, foundered at sea;—the melancholy catastrophe of Admiral Kempenfelt in the Royal George, is in the sad recollection of many.
To mourn Prince Alfred's early death;
And civic gratitude to praise,
Which bids art's fav'rite vot'ries raise
A monument of veneration,
To Chatham, glory of the nation!
It's makers out of office sent;
Pitt yields to Fox and North who stay
In Coalition scarce a day;
The state wheel turns, and fate thinks fit
Again to smile on William Pitt.
It is not our intent to follow
Each turn of In and Out view hollow;
But sometimes in our quiet ride,
Glance en passant at either side.
Strange Meteors fright old men and wives,
Amelia's birth delights our King and Queen;
And Prince Octavius quits this mortal scene.
Our forces both by land and sea suffered severely in India, just as the news of peace arrived to put an end to hostilities, and this was the final operation of the late war.
'Twixt Fox and Hood, and Cecil Wray;
Handel's august commemoration,
Electrifies the list'ning nation;
And, useful to the Muse, she hails
Palmer, thy Post-impelling Mails:
May thy claim's “laboursome petition,”
Wring justice, slow, from opposition.
Johnson, thy vast, thy comprehensive mind,
With all it's Herculean store
Of elegant, not superficial, lore,
Is by the will of Heav'n to death consign'd.
The monument thou leav'st behind,—
Thy Works,—like the famed Torso, greatly prove
Our praise, or imitation, far above.
In sev'nteen hundred eighty-five,
The all-expectant world's alive,
Such inquisition might abide,
As, when once brought before his Peers,
They wove and wove for years and years;
As if, like Old Ulysses' bride,
Their daily knots the night untied,
At length, both sides to plead admitted,
The Governor most amply is acquitted.
The Shop-tax for a while disturbs the town,
'Till he who plann'd it, wisely laid it down.
Commercial plans with France and Spain we sign,
On base of reciprocity,
And faith and friendship mutually combine,
'Gainst future animosity.
When, suddenly, a frantic maniac's hand,
Masking in suppliant guise th' insidious knife,
Had nearly plunged in mourning all the land,
By sacrifice of our lov'd parent's life.
What parricidal guilt her hands had dyed;
Had not kind heaven interposed it's pow'r,
And turn'd the murd'rous implement aside.
While thanks for George's preservation rise,
Amelia, his royal sister, dies.
Margaret Nicholson attempted to stab His Majesty with a knife she had concealed in the folds of a petition, which he was just reaching his hand to receive; she proved to be insane, and was directed, under the most humane attention, to be confined in Bethlem Hospital.
Of wond'rous narrative, more like a dream
Than semblant to the style of sober pens,
I mean when civil dæmons left their dens:
With specious garb, and demagogues' deep wile,
Who look like peace, yet “murder while they smile.”
Oh, hapless Gallia, 'tis for thee we mean
These plaints, and happy for the Muse, I ween,
Not her's the task to trace each blood-stain'd scene
Thy mourning streets, thy fanes, thine altars saw;
That fierce despite of loyalty and law
Which rent asunder ev'ry sacred tie,
In Reason's name bade all of reason die,
And call'd the gaunt delirium Liberty!
Pass we the horrors of thy princes slain,
Pass we where lovely woman falls unspared;
While red-eyed Revolution wildly glared.
My Muse disclaims each deed of crime or glory,
But what alone relates to British story.
Lord George, who led the chapel-burning crew,
Now quits his creed, and owns himself a Jew.
Mansfield, the sage judicial chief, expires:
And, with respect and sympathy, we state,
Hygæia from our sov'reign's cheeks retires,
And (while a prey to fev'rish fires
The monarch suffers,) harsh debate,
And wrath unseemly, in the senate rise.
Then, Thurlow, it was thine to prize
Thy master's welfare, and exclaim,
(Never forgotten be thy fame)!
“Whene'er unmindful of my King I prove
“Unmindful be of me the God I love!”
Then Pitt! too, leader of that band
Who, in the sov'reign, served the land,
O'erpaid thy loyal efforts then,
When reason dawning on the best of men,
And feeling, reft of words, essay'd reward.
The King's recovery was given
As sudden blessing sent from Heaven,
To interpose when Discord's voice,
In accents hoarse, bade fiends rejoice;
But Providence withdrew the veil,
The dæmon's fell intentions fail:
And in the sacred dome, by crouded hearts
Surrounded, George his gratitude imparts,
To where Sincerity will still prevail.
But one opinion; now with so much zeal
On Gallic questions seize, that neither yield,
While all their former friendship quits the field.
Cornwali's decease the Speaker's chair bestows
On Addington, whose worth the country knows;
Some frantic hand again the King assails,
It's aim, to ev'ry subject's rapture, fails.
For virtue in a philosophic dress,
The first renown'd; the second no one yet
Hopes to surpass, while many a 'prison'd wretch,
Far as the hand of time will stretch,
Shall find some cause his memory to bless.
A stone was thrown at His Majesty by one John Frith, a half-pay lieutenant, which fortunately missed the royal person: Frith being proved insane, upon trial, was sent to a proper place of confinement.
And hence begins a scene of lengthen'd strife,
Which keeps the Eastern world in dire alarms,
'Till Tippoo's empire closes with his life.
To seek that school of military fame
Which venerable Frederick form'd to guide
The youthful warrior, teach him how to blend
With valours vehemence the needful curb
Which discipline supplies, the royal York,
Our sov'reign's second hope, had gone erewhile:
And as those maxims he imbibed, which since
In practice have secured the love of all,
Of each, or high or low, whom his command
Embraces;—there, ere yet matured his aims
To shelter from distress the widow, wife,
Or parent of the fearless youth who rush
On Gallic squadrons in their country's cause:
To rear the sons of Albion to renown,
By theories which mingle in the mind
Lights of religion and humanity,
And form the christian soldier in the man.
While great intents like these his wish employ'd,
Still softer feelings stole upon his mind,
Prussia's fair pride, the daughter of his host,
Taught the young soldier, that, from beauty's glance
No angle of the heart, howe'er by lines
Of caution fortified, is quite secure.
The sires of Britain and of Prussia smiled,
And blest their offsprings union, England saw
Her Prince's choice with pride, and hail'd with joy
The day by Hymen destined to entwine
With Frederica, Fred'rick's fate for life
Have cause to bless enlightened Britain's voice,
Which, in full senate, the detested trade
Of human traffic marks with fit rebuke;
Places a bound to it's nefarious powers,
Pow'rs doom'd at length to wither! pow'rs accurs'd!
Which sacrificed to avarice, (as of old
Moloch's fell shrine was wet with infant blood,)
Freedom and life, and ev'ry heaven sent good:
The virgin's hope, the husband's virtuous bliss,
The father's fondness, and the mother's joy;
And, above all, the patriotic flame
Which, whether in the frozen arctic isles
Where stormy Zembla rears her ice-clad hills,
Or on the burning sands of Araby,
For ever vibrates on the feeling soul.
Like to that magic song of Home, which tunes
Helvetian hearts to mournful ecstacy!
No patriot he, no genuine Briton born
Wou'd rise to wealth upon the servile chains
He heaps on fellow man! No freedom his
Whose mind (the worst of slav'ry) wears the badge
Of cursed thirst for gain;—but, oh! for him
Whose open heart, whose large enlighten'd mind,
Cou'd advocate the cause of wretchedness;
Expose the narrow selfish craft, which stain'd
The name of Commerce; rescue from reproach
The British merchant's honor, and restore
Degraded man, (yet not abased so low
As those who dare degrade him,) to his rights,
What rapture must be his! his manly heart,
Sentient for others, in itself must feel
Myriads of blessings, first by him bestow'd,
Returning on the source from whence they sprang!
His Royal Highness married the Princess Royal of Prussia, at Berlin, was re-married at St. James's the December following and most magnificently received at court with his royal bride.
Various resolutions were proposed by the opposers of the slave trade and after long debates and the rejection of many proposals, a motion was carried that the abolition be final in January, 1796, this afterwards met much opposition from the Lords.
To circulate his “Rights of Man;”
And mad enthusiastic fools
Of deep designing knaves the tools,
With Hudibrastic fury swelling,
Long'd to “ride forth a Colonelling.”
Kings, Priests, and Peers, at one fell sweep,
They sentenced to “Eternal Sleep;
The new Scholastics christen'd death,
Religion, henceforth petty treason,
Was merely soften'd down to Reason;
The raising a domestic storm,
Was prettily misnamed Reform;
And sending thousands to their graves,
Saved them, of course, from being slaves.
Equality, that lovely word,
For which so many drew the sword,
Meant only, that industrious worth
Shou'd with the idlest rogue on earth
Share the fair produce of his labour;
And, when thus pillaged, rob his neighbour.
Well had the world run round, I wot,
Had things fall'n out—as they did not;
How decently at Church, (I mean
In Reason's Temple,) had been seen
Our British fair, no longer prudes,
Improved to lib'ral minded Nudes;
Returning home, for dinner ready,
Our servants, in the good cause steady,
Wou'd condescend to wait at table,
Or tend the kitchen, or the stable,
Were pleased in turn to do the same;
While citizens, Dick, Poll, and Bobby,
In Gallic costume, sans culotte,
Preambulate park, street, and lobby,
By lady's robe bedeck'd, and lord's best coat.
Eastward the Muse now points the view, to where
The son of Hyder leads his Rajah-poots,
From Ganges' banks, and arms the native tribes
Of Hindoo warriors, to poise the spear
Against Cornwallis; vain the effort, vain
The tiger hunting monarch's wrath, opposed
To British firmness.—Tippoo's hostage sons,
With store of tributary spoil, confess
The triumph of our arms; victorious flies
The banner of St. George, and low the Crescent lies.
Nor to Hindostan is the war confined,
France revolutionzed, her King bereft
Of life by felon hands; her people drunk
Her venom locks, the pois'nous drops imbue
The shore, the ocean, and their influence spreads
To the Batavian coast, and hence, the Scheldt
Infecting Britain with a plea for strife,
The spirit of dissension burns, nor years
Have quench'd the flame terrific, which extends
From busy Thames to where Lutetia's towers
Reflect their lofty honors in the Seine.
On land, unmoved, do Gallia's sons maintain
The varied fate of warfare;—on the sea
The British trident still asserts it's right
Of empire.—Mark! what thundering peals announce
Howe and the glories of the first of June!
Six captured floating castles, two destroy'd,
The shatter'd remnants of invading prows
Put to disgraceful flight, proclaim what boys
Of native oak constructed hearts, can do
Against determined foes.—The British fleet
Scarce injured in the contest, proudly bore
Her prizes safely to our grateful shore.
The nation to divide, but honest John,
True to himself, spurns ev'ry base attempt
To cheat him of his rights, in specious name
Of Liberty; and give, in lieu of thee
Thou lovely goddess ever “fair and free!”
A drab, whose blood-stain'd pike and bonnet rouge
Mark'd her the mother red-cap of a mob.
Tippoo Saib was reduced to cede one half his dominions, to pay three crores and thirty lacks of rupees, to give up all prisoners and yield his two eldest sons as hostages for the performance of the treaty.
The disciples of the new philosophy at length were noticed by the law, many convicted of sedition and some acquitted of high treason;—the mob at Birmingham taking offence at a party of philosophers who were commemmorating the “glorious” French revolution, proceeded to most dreadful outrages, and after the law had been shamefully violated in the name of church and king, many of the rioters expiated their folly with their lives.
Leads Caroline of Brunswick, pomp and state
Upon the royal nuptials wait,
And joy's loud acclamations rend the air.
H.R. H. the Prince Regent was married on the 8th of April, to his cousin the Princess Caroline of Brunswick.
Their pow'rs on land and ocean, to combine
The war's continuance, but sends her sons,
Hotham, Cornwallis, Bridport, o'er the main,
Her long asserted title to maintain.
Pondicherry, Chandenagore and Mahie were taken from the French, whose settlements in the West Indies were also captured by Sir C. Grey and Sir John Jervis; we likewise took Martinico and St. Lucie.
Whose cause we had befriended, far too much!
Declared against us; yet we stem the tide,
And still our gallant ships victorious ride.
About this time in reputation rose,
The most implacable of England's foes,
Napoleon Bonaparte, whose frequent threat
Of our destruction (unaccomplished yet);
Whatever may have caus'd said threat's prevention,
Calls on our gratitude for its intention.
Batavian settlements, Batavian fleets,
Surrender to the British—France, too, meets
Whence Gallic chieftains bravely—ran away.
With peaceful offers Malmesbury is sent
To Paris, and returns just as he went.
Jamaica feels the scourge of civil jar,
'Till British valour terminates the war.
Hope of the House of Brunswick, England's care,
The birth of Charlotte glads the Royal pair.
Nearly the whole of the Dutch settlements surrendered to the British arms, and in the month of October, nine sail of Dutch ships, three of the line, five frigates, and sloops, which had entered Saldanha Bay with a view to attack the Cape of Good Hope, yielded, without firing a shot, to Admiral Sir Keith Elphinstone.
This was called the Maroon War; the Maroons were descendants of the Spanish slaves, who refused to submit when the English first took possession of the island;—twenty battles terminated in their entire submission.
Involves the nation in no small alarm,
Which spreads with light'nings speed from rank to rank,
When guineas ceas'd to issue from the Bank;
External and internal enemies
Have subsequently prov'd the measure wise.
Now Continental freedom loses hope,
And Bonaparte triumphs o'er the Pope.
At sea two proud achievements gild the page,
Each unsurpass'd in any clime or age;
First Jervis, long to be remember'd name!
Against Iberia wins immortal fame;
The gallant Briton give the Spaniard law.
Next Duncan's prowess claim'd no less renown
When Holland struck her flag off Camperdown.
Our pious Sovereign and his joyful Court,
In solemn state to Paul's proud fane resort;
Preceded by the lads whom Vincent, Howe,
And Duncan, led to fame; they grateful bow
Before the Giver of success; display,
And consecrate the trophies of the day.
Impartial verity, alas! compels
What with reluctance the historian tells:
The bulwarks of our empire o'er the main,
Bring on their name a momentary stain;
Britain had ne'er such cause to mourn, before
Her Naval sons' defection at the Nore;
And never may such cause occur again.
Alike his crime and mem'ry be forgot!
France sends her heroes to invade North Wales,
Thro' Taffy's zeal the well-meant project fails.
Lord Malmesbury is sent once more to treat
Of peace, our foes the kind intent defeat.
The King of Prussia and John Wilkes, of whom
We twice have spoken, seek the silent tomb.
Hibernia, sister of our Isle!
With whom to share sweet Union's smile
Is ev'ry honest Briton's aim,
Why shou'd the Muse those ills proclaim
Which from our mutual foemen sprung!
To discord shall the harp be strung?
No, brother Pat, tho' rudely sung,
My wild attempt would fain combine
The blended beauties of the nine;
And above all to sing of thee
With most fraternal harmony.
Sir John Jervis with 15 sail attacked a Spanish fleet of 25, passed rapidly through their line, tacked, and separated one third from the main body, after a partial cannonade, which prevented their rejunction in the evening; by which manœuvre 4 line of battle ships were taken, and their whole fleet defeated with very trivial loss to the English.
Admiral Duncan broke the Dutch line, a-la-Jervis, and in two hours and a half took their Admiral and 9 ships of the line. The hero of Camperdown was in consequence created an English Peer, by the title of Earl St. Vincent.
Lord Malmesbury was sent to treat with the French Commissioners at Lisle, but was unable to procure honourable terms of peace.
Without success, at Ballinmuck;
Repell'd the bold intrusive band.
HORATIO NELSON OF THE NILE:
Cent'ries to come shall hail the day
Of conquest in Aboukir Bay;
Not on the main each adverse fleet
With equal chance of conquest meet,—
But Gallia's leading warrior rides
Guarded by shelter at his back,
While Nelson, whom time, place, nor tides,
Deterr'd from once-resolv'd attack.
So plied the foe with British thunder,
So rent his phalanx line asunder,
That, scarce recover'd from surprise,
Their ships, consuming, tint the skies:
And dread explosion tells the tremb'ling shore,
The floating pride of Frenchmen is no more;
That Nelson's warlike genius rules the fight,
And conquer'd L'Orient sets in endless night.
When thy best fortune on thee smiles,
Does not remembrance of that fearful night
Fill thine ambitious bosom with affright?
Did it not certainly foretell
That breasts of steel who fought so well
Would soon thy mad career appal,
As Sydney did, at Acre's Wall,
Wou'd put thy stoutest hearts to flight,
As Stewart did at Maida fight;
Wou'd drive thy hordes from Egypt's shore,
As Abercrombie, now no more,
Began to do, while those he left
Of all thy laurels thee bereft?
Did no presentiment foretell
Thine upstart glory's passing bell,
When, starting from thy tyrant reign,
In fury rose awakened Spain,
Did nothing sadly prophecy
Of Wellington and Victory?
Or didst thou never turn thine eyes
From Jaffa and thy cruelties?
To the, then little thought, bare chance
That all the pride and flow'r of France,
In Russian climes, should curse the hour
When thy ambition lured them forth,
To perish in the hostile North;
When millions, by thy schemes misled,
For whom?—A stranger—fought and bled.
Thou! prodigal of human blood,
Whom British senators descend to praise;
For thee and thy dire practices too good
Are even these most inexpressive lays.
Nine sail of the line were taken, L'Orient of 120 guns, another ship of the line, and a frigate were burned or blew up in action; two only of the French feet escaped; their Admiral Bruyes, lost his life in the engagement; for this brilliant and most important service, our hero was created Baron Nelson of the Nile, and his Sicilian Majesty confered on him the title of Duke of Bronti.
Beholds the British flag triumphant fly;
And, pow'rless to revenge great Nelson's deed,
The turban'd victims of his anger bleed;
And more of des lation had profaned
The sacred land and Jaffa's conduits stained,
But that another Briton barr'd his way,
Cross'd his fell purposes from day to day;
And where, of yore, in a less holy cause,
Fierce Cœur-de-Lion gave the battle laws;
In modern day did Sydney shake the tower
And pinnacle of Napoleon's power:
When such opponents met him in the field,
Bravely resolved (the Moniteur would say)
To 'tempt the ocean, rather than to stay.
Nelson's victory seemed to deprive the French of all succour from the Continent; and the Turks, being reinforced by a small body of English, under the command of Sir Sydney Smith, the French were subjected to innumerable distresses and defeats, when an unexpected scheme was put in execution by Bonaparte, which was no other than that of making his escape from Egypt.
With gallant Howe, death calls thy soul to peace.
Tippoo, the mighty Sultan of Mysore,
Falls, with his capital, to rise no more;
Much we rejoice when Britain's arms succeed,
Yet much regret to see a monarch bleed,
Defending to the last, in mortal fight,
What surely less was ours than his good right.
The conquerors of Austerlitz we hate,
Who not succeed thro' rectitude, but fate;
And Indian princes, who ne'er thought
Of British interference, ought
Or what, or whom their native land, invade;
Correction here may offer a short word,
To say that Tippoo was not rightful lord
Of what he died for; that bold Hyder's son
Defended what his sire by force had won,
While we the legal Rajah's heir restored.
It may be so, but truth says, after all,
The Musnud of Mysore is Leadenhall.
Kistna Rajah Oidaver, the only child of Chiaum Rauze, or Raige, (five of whose seven wives are living), was placed on the Musnud, or throne, of the deceased Rajah, on the 60th of June, at the old town of Mysore; the ceremony was performed by General Harris, as senior Member of the British Commission, and Meer Allum, acting for his Highness the Nizam. The deportment of the young Prince, who was only five years old, is described as having been remarkably decorous. Vide Lonsdale's Narrative Sketches of the Conquest of the Mysore.
Of danger to our much-loved King,
Yet pleasure every heart must feel to know
That Providence averts each nearly fatal blow:
See, with a parent leader's pride,
Round his brave troops the Monarch ride;
From some fell tube the leaden death,
By heaven's kind aid is turn'd aside:
Scarce had the sun that memorable day
On ocean's surface ceas'd to play,
When, as his people's shouts their Sovereign hail,
They see a desp'rate hand his life assail;
Yes, while surrounded by each dearest friend,
Wife, children, all that love and friendship blend,
His family of Britons mark'd how near
The King of terrors,—while with doubt and fear
All were impress'd, save one, that one was he
Who knew not but he yet might be
The victim of a fatal shot reserved;
Yes, George, by interposing heav'n preserved,
With confidence, as brave as mild,
Bow'd to his people, sigh'd, and smiled!
Made the assassin's safety first his care,
And bade his guards the unhappy maniac spare.
May genuine friendship ever smile;
May jealousies, and fears and doubts,
Created, or by ins or outs,
Yield to a hearty social band
Of love and faith 'twixt either land.
Of many a gallant warlike feat,
Yields to the British arms; and mark
Where Abercrombie's glorious lads embark
For Egypt's shore, where let the Muse, poor elf,
Quote one or two short stanzas from herself.
“Twas on the spot in ancient lore oft named,
“Where Isis and Osiris once held sway
“O'er kings who sleep in pyramidic pride,
“But now for British valour far more famed,
“Since Nelson's band achieved a glorious day,
“And, crown'd with laurel, Abercrombie died.”
“Her roseate colours the dawn had not shed
“O'er the field, which stern slaughter had tinted too red,
“All was dark, save each flash at the cannon's hoarse sound,
“When the brave Abercrombie received his death wound!
“With a mind unsubdued still the foe he defied
“On the steed which the Hero of Acre supplied,
“He gave Sydney the sword he no longer could wield.
“The standard of Britain by victory crown'd,
“Wav'd over that head which now sank to the ground!
“His comrades with grief unaffected deplore,
“While to Albion's renown he adds one laurel more.”
Purchased with life!—to his all-honor'd grave
Let every manly trait of patriot woe,
With beauty's pearly tear, co-mingled go:
What centuries of most sincere regret
Can to his mem'ry pay the nation's debt?—
Our debt to him whom nor destructive surge,
Nor all that Gallic arms and tactics urge,
Cou'd bar a passage on that very shore
Where Nelson's thunders had been heard before;
To him the glorious conflict who began,
Which drove Napoleon's legions, to a man,
To quit, inglorious, that much-injur'd strand,
Where violence and rapine bade them land;
Upon a fugitive invader's shame!
It were too much intrusion here to tell,
The day on which great Abercrombie fell
Was, Reader, (tho' unworthy thy regard)
The birth-day of your humble, wou'd-be, Bard.
Britannia's thunder to the echoing Sound,
Proclaims that Nelson leads to Danish ground;
His meteor train the northern foe appals,
And to their base shakes Copenhagen's walls.
Here Moss and Riou for their country bled,
And join'd in better worlds the patriot dead.
Denmark and Sweden now to peace attend,
And Paul's demise, of Russia makes a friend.
Saumarez adds to former gain
Of laurels, at expence of Spain.
Sir James Saumarez engaged a Spanish squadron, of superior force, with so much gallantry, that two three deckers of the enemy exploded during the action, and their other ships were so much shattered that it was with the greatest difficulty they escaped into Cadiz.
Of Opposition to his Public Life,
Resigns,—Dundas and Grenville too,
Windham and Spencer bid adieu
While Addington essays the sweet and sour
Of Grandeur's careful, transitory hour.
Next let our narrative declare
(For give and take, good friends, is fair),
When on Boulogne we made attack,
Our gallant lads were beaten back.
On this theme, therefore, let us cease,
And talk of oh! much wish'd for Peace;
Of short duration though, I fear;
It lasted, let me see, a year,
'Ere France the scarcely-finish'd compact broke,
Unsheath'd the sword, and challeng'd Hearts of Oak;
Swore England's commerce should exist no more,
And menaced freemen upon Freedom's shore!
Then “what ensued?” will future times demand:
Say, did the spoilers reach the threaten'd land?
No! Britons with enthusiastic fire,
In patriotic phalanx rallied round their sire;
All were united in the sacred cause
Of Liberty, Religion, King, and Laws;
Vow'd on each other strongly to rely;
All kept the sacred bond, and still their foes defy.
The Treaty of Amiens was signed in March; 1802, scarcely a year had elapsed when the representations of Lord Whitworth, respecting some French and Dutch armaments, were answered by the first Consul with so much personal rudeness and “such a striking neglect of dignity and propriety,” that our ambassador was compelled to return home, and war recommenced in May, 1803.
In violating hospitable rights,
Seiz'd on those British, who, in luckless hour,
Had deem'd that honor in his breast had power:
And, when the prison'd guests their right demand,
Ironic insult, and degrading jeer,
Our sons deride, and mock our daughters' ear.
When Autun's Bishop came to Albion's strand,
What courtesy but greeted Talleyrand?
A name on which for ever now must rest
This hated stigma, “the Ungrateful Guest,”
Who Briton's noblest favors could requite
With ev'ry act of mean official spite.
Receive from injured law their due.
A sudden burst, in which a Magistrate
Of worth and virtue meets a cruel fate,
Upon Hibernian ground appals the good;
His very murderers mourn Kilwarden's blood!
Kilwarden, whose last palpitating breath,
Forgave th' infuriate authors of his death!
Grinfield and Hood, and Saumarez, at sea,
Their true blue warriors lead to victory;
While Dieppe and Dutchmen found some cause to rue
What Owen and associate chiefs cou'd do.
In India, Wellesley triumphs o'er the foe,
(Such names make shocking poetry I trow,
As Rajah Berar, Scindia Dowlat Bow).
Which in its vortex sunk the Hindostan.
Now Addington and friends uneasy sit,
And yield the ministerial throne to Pitt.
Behold Linois against our lads advance,
Sets, turns his partners, and declines the Dance.
La liberté no more the Frenchman sings,
For mark! th' Imperial Eagle claps his wings!
Wou'd you, my reader kind, survey
Such ensigns of despotic sway,
A moment to Whitehall repair,
You'll see a splendid sample there,
Which with our brethren brave were forc'd to stay
While their unpinion'd owners fled away.
This, at that time, confidential minister of the French court, and to whom the English nobility had been prodigally hospitable, in their own country, is accused in many instances of personal and degrading ill-treatment of the detenus, particularly to a venerable Scotch Countess, to whom, when she pleaded for indulgence on her knees, he laughingly said, he could neither understand her French nor her English.
General Grinfield and Commodore Hood took St. Lucia, Tobago, Demarara, Issequibo, &c.—Berbice was also captured. Sir James Sanmarez attacked the port of Granville, demolished the pier, and destroyed many vessels designed for the invasion of England; Dieppe was bombarded the same day by Captain Owen; and a number of vessels were taken, or rendered useless, in the Dutch harbours.
Marquis Wellesley obtained a decisive victory over the Berar Rajah and Dowlat Bow Scindia, and their combined forces. The Hindostan East Indiaman was lost in Margate Roads on the 11th of January.
Capt. N. Dance in the Farl Camden East Indiaman, while convoying twenty-six merchantmen, fell in with and beat off the squadron of Admiral Linois, consisting of a line of battle ship, two frigates, a corvette, and a brig.
Which reaches us from St. Domingo,
Another self-dubb'd monstrous great I,
Makes his debut as Emperor of Hayti.
The German Emp'ror, too, commands proclaim,
That henceforth Austria bear th' imperial name.
We sing of war proclaim'd with Spain.
A sail appears,—a flag of truce
From France, which proves of little use;
Our answer, surely just and wise,
Refused to treat without allies.
Two ships from Spain Sir Robert Calder wins:
And now the Muse's hardest task begins;
Nelson, thy sacred name, thy matchless worth,
Which might the fire of Phœbus self call forth,
Leave me o'erpower'd,—else shou'd the unequal lay
Soar boldly to that blaze of endless day,
Which, emanating from thy great renown,
With dazzling glory gilds thy naval crown!
Nelson, revolving mighty deeds gone by,
Favor'd with hopes of future victory,
Greatly impatient for the coming fight,
Began at length to droop; prophetic sight
Of something like the glorious day
Which memorized Trafalgar bay,
Floated before the hero's wishful eye;
Yet would the grateful vision call a sigh,
As if, unconsciously, the warrior's mind
His all lamented envied fate divined.
Still hope renew'd, his ardor quicken'd;
At length his comprehensive brain
Suggested certain means to gain
His heart's desire—the wary chief
Lulls his opposers to belief,
That, weary of the fond pursuit,
Despairing to enjoy the fruit
Of ceaseless watching day and night,
Retiring, he declined the fight.
Little they fathom'd that capacious soul,
Which heav'n foredoom'd from pole to pole
Shou'd spread the fame of British tars
Beyond the praise of former wars;
So soon to be of slaughter'd hosts the grave,
Conceives, at length, he fearless may appear,
Nor dreams of Nelson's genius hov'ring near.
The naval boast of our most happy isle,
Welcomed th' astonish'd squadrons with a smile;
“They're mine,” he cried,—along the awful line,
Fate answer'd him in thunder, “they are thine!”
But first the patriot signal proudly flew,
“England expects his duty each will do.”
And did they? Witness for them, bounteous heaven,
If ever signal more appropriate given
Could better be obeyed.—“Now,” loudly cried
The British chief, “quick place me by the side
“Of an oft met opponent, man to man!”
The helmsman answered; the dread fray began,
And Trinidada's decks in purple torrents run.
Well did they fight, 'ere Nelson's setting sun
Its golden radiance proudly shed
Around the laurel'd chieftain's head;
Round his, who with his latest sigh
Bless'd the great God of Victory;
His country was the hero's care.
To lure the enemy from port, the gallant Admiral kept his fleet out of sight, but established a chain of communication by frigates. Admiral Villeneuve at length ventured out, with 33 sail of the line, 7 frigates, and 8 corvettes, and sustained a most memorabfe discomfiture from a British fleet of only 26 sail of the line, with a proportionate number of frigates.
Nineteen ships of the line and three flag officers were taken by the British: our ever-regretted Admiral fell by a musquet ball in the middle of the action; a public funeral was decreed his remains; his brother created a Viscount and Earl of the United Kingdoms, and suitable estates purchased for the support of that dignity; £2000 per annum was voted to Lady Nelson; Admiral Colling wood was elevated to the Peerage, with a pension of £2000; and an ample contribution was raised for those who were wounded in the action, and for the surviving relatives of those who had fallen.
NELSON's FUNERAL.
In grateful sorrow while she knelt,
Grateful for laurels proudly won,
Convuls'd with sorrow for her son;
And mark! to shed the patriot tear
O'er him whose victory cost so dear:
Behold a mighty nation throng,
And see the sad procession slowly moves along;
To paint it, wou'd it were my lot
To hold the pen of Wizard Scott,
So might I sing each plaided chief
Who led the pomp of that day's grief;
Of solemn dirges might I tell,
Which on the ear lugubrious swell;
While tristful pipers fling around
The coronach's impressive sound,
And fancy's whispering minstrelsy,
Recals the Bards “Och Hone a Rie!”
Defenders of our envied land,
Who erst in many a well-fought field
Had forc'd the Gallic standard yield;
And now in battle's dread array,
Add awful lustre to the day.
Next, speaking closely to the heart,
What pleasure might the Muse impart
If those she sung, the gallant brave,
Who on the late impurpled wave
Had shared the dangers of that day,
Which snatch'd our naval hope away.
The sons of Albion, with revering eye,
Beheld the mild, yet daring, host pass by,
Whose iron sinews to its destin'd aim
Had dragg'd each mouth which dealt the dreadful flame
Of Britain's indignation.—I have said
Whose iron sinews, but whose manly hearts,
The battle over, soft as infant love,
Wept, with no common tears, their father slain.
Much had the “pomp and circumstance of war”
Impress'd the gazing thousands, and the bands
Of England's champions who, with martial step,
But when, in costume unadorned, yet neat,
The warriors of the main, with downcast eye
And carriage unassuming, pass'd along,
What British youth, whate'er his noble rank,
Whate'er the splendid fortunes he might own,
But (were he truly British) wou'd have given
All, in exchange, to have been one of those
Who, side by side with Nelson, had appal'd,
Each in himself a lion, those proud souls
Who had most rashly dared to threat the soil
Which gave such feeling and such valour birth!
Not one of this bold train who meekly pass'd,
But for some merit in the day of days
Had been distinguished. Dare the Sacred Band,
Which from his northern perils help'd escort
The high-prais'd Emperor of Gaul, assume
A parallel with these?—But hold, my muse!
Let no commixture sully the great name
Which, tamely treated as it is, demands
From its intrinsic grandeur, pure applause.
“Peace to the heroes' souls! their bodies die,
“Their fames shall ever live in memory!”
Captured the poor remains of Gallia's fleet.
Our Aberga'ny, to the sea a prize,
Still on the rocky shore of Portland lies.
Austria to France submits, from Presburg's towers,
Peace is proclaimed between the adverse powers.
This year we lose the Brother of our King;
This year another loss we grieve to sing,
Cornwallis great and good, on Indian soil,
Closes a life of patriotic toil.
And scarce another year its course began,
'Ere Pitt, illustrious, unequalled man!
Pitt, Napoleon's eyesore, scourge of Gaul,
Pitt, victim of his virtues, doom'd to fall,
From libel-stain'd malignity retired,
Sigh'd for his much-lov'd country, and expired!
“Statesman, yet friend to truth,” thy spirit now
From blissful realms beholds opposers bow
Source of each heart inspiring victory;
That, conquering Wellington! for wakened Spain,
And Lusitania, it is thine to gain
The persevering plans to Pitt we owe,
Which since have laid Gaul's schemes of conquest low.
Pitt's fire of opposition to a chief,
Whose grasping rage for conquest pass'd belief,
Spreading through frozen regions of the North,
Have driven that merciless invader forth,
Who, when in height of power we saw him sit,
No Briton flatter'd but the foes of Pitt!
Come in;—then, past a doubt,
The nation's saved!! Not yet, because
The Talents all—go out.
Thus Fortune's fickle will disposes
Of ministerial beds of roses.
Cornwallis, Nelson, Pitt, at once laid low;
Fox, shou'd so soon in death be placed beside
The man, who equally his country's friend,
By diff'rent means pursued the same good end.
Par Fratrum nobile, tho' long opposed,
Yet each his life with highest honours closed;
Each, when subsided popular acclaim,
Will rank in Britain's love with equal fame:
Each now looks down from worlds beyond the grave,
On that lov'd country each aspir'd to save;
And, were return permitted, hand in hand,
Wou'd Union's blessings point to Briton's land.
Which Pitt's demise made vacant; when his own
Open'd the country's wounds—Tierney and Grey,
Holland, and Sidmouth, bore co-equal sway.
More tales like those we told them long ago.
To England acted;—once that's ever since,
The step she has regretted, which may prove
The moral consequence of Gallia's love.
A deed which brought a million to the Bank).
The capture of Buenos Ayres, tells
That British spirit still in Britain dwells.
From Maida's plains another laurel springs,
('Twas wormwood to the Emperor of Kings),
The chosen of th' imperial squadrons meet
The British bayonet—their swift retreat
Proclaims beyond the pow'r of words,
That Gallic threats are sharper than their swords.
Sicilia welcomes Stewart and his band,
As saviours of an innovated land.
Of what the Leopard and the Chesapeake
Produced to satisfy the fell desire
Of those who wou'd promote dissensions ire.
America, may mutual sense of right
Our present boken friendship re-unite!
We're free to own, we hadn't much to boast;
In Egypt, measure of mischance to fill,
We, certainly, were less successful still.
Ill fated Copenhagen once more knows
Of warfare (to her dwellings brought) the woes.
The Slave Trade, to Humanity's encrease,
By pre-arrangements mention'd, now must cease;
Louis of France, (the cause each good man grieves,)
Our isle, with hospitable arms receives;
The sov'reign's sister joyful meets once more
Th' unequal'd comforts of her native shore.
The Spanish monarch quits his place,
And Bayonne witnesses the cheat,
Which threw Spain under an usurper's feet.
Expends for Spain her treasures and her blood!
Dupont and Moncey, with Duhesme, first find
The awful efforts of Iberia's mind;
Baylen, Valentia, Sarragossa prove
How People prize the liberty they love.
Of new made king, august Madrid,
Was in a mighty hurry rid;
“A cut-purse,” as we somewhere else have read,
“Of realms and empire,” not upon his head
He wore the “precious diadem,” they say,
But “in his pocket” bore the prize away.
At Cintra's bargain, millions justly scoff,
And thought Junot came much too cheaply off;
And so he did, when Vimiera's fight,
(Disgrace of France, and Britain's proud delight,)
Had taught the arrogant, intruding, elves,
Who felt not others sorrows, for themselves
To feel and fear:—but subsequent event,
By Heav'n, in aid of British valour, sent;
Has richly equipois'd the gen'rous fault,
Which British liberality had made.
The 'whelming force of Napoleon's arms
Gave Usurpation's cause a transient hour
“Walk'd o'er the hills” of Spanish liberty.
The germ of glory which has since illumed
A generous nation struggling for her rights;
And, while lamented Moore with honor fell,
Did Wellesley fashion deeds which future days
With doubtful retrospection will regard,
As passing far that boundary of truth
Which faithful history may ne'er exceed,
Gambier and Cochrane teach the fleet of France
That even their own harbours ill secure
The objects of a British tar's attack.
The Russian's too, by Hankey's valour find,
(Hankey! who purchased victory with life,)
What Spartan courage animates the souls
Of English seamen in Old England's cause.
And twenty transports eke,
In Rosas' Bay, the worth, true blue,
Of Collingwood bespeak.
By Ministers is made;
And those who were to Walch'ren sent
At home had better staid.
Since sorrow will not save
The gallant lads who found, alas!
A pestilential grave.
How disappointment cruel
Made Ministers, in angry fit,
Go forth and fight a duel.
These degradations see,
A nobler subject shall inspire
My humble Muse and me.
His people's warm regard can shake,)
Enters the Fiftieth Year that he
Had ruled the sons of liberty;
Who now forgetting party rout,
Of Whig or Tory, In or Out,
Unite in general Jubilee.
In public thanksgiving repair,
To Him who, from his throne on high,
Rules king's and subject's destiny.
The naked cloathed, the debtor freed,
The hungry fed, and many a deed
Of brotherly affection see,
Grace Britain's year of Jubilee.
And Sol to Thetis' lap descended,
What blaze of artificial light
Succeeded to illume the night!
Victorious emblem, all the nine
Descended in united glee,
“To celebrate the Jubilee.”
Nor urge the gently rolling sand;
That years to come our King may prove
Lord of all hearts in Albion's land;
And Britons long united be
As at our gen'ral Jubilee!
Congratulory lays,
While grateful home and distant lands
Re-echo Wellesley's praise.
Fame-wafted comes-the battles roar,
And Gallia's eagle ceas'd to soar
Where British valour reigns;
For Lusitania; Spain; the World!
On Talavera's plains.
Yields where the Corsican directs the war;
Be patient Muse, succeeding happier times
Shall subjects yield for more enliv'ning rhymes
Than these, which tell that Austria, forced to fight
For the existence of her ev'ry right,
Fails in all efforts, and, perforce, receives
Such peace as conquering France most proudly gives.
And peaceful citizens his conduct rue;
Blood stains our streets, and British subjects die
Victims of party pertinacity.
Attacks the King's fifth son; the Duke's escape,
By Providence directed, claims our praise;
The self-devoted murd'rer ends his days
By the same hand which aim'd the felon knife
Against his unsuspecting master's life.
Amboyna, and the isle of Bourbon fall
To British conquerors;—Busaco's field,
And Massena's retreat fresh laurels yield.
Releas'd from sublunary pain and care;
Leaves, inconsolable, the best of sires,
Whose fortitude beneath the blow expires:
And hence the present source of England's grief,
And hence our sad despair of wish'd relief.
In mournful absence of the regal mind,
The cares of state are to the Prince consign'd;
The Prince accepts, in hopes a year may bring
Joy to himself, to us, and to our King;
The year elaps'd, our hopes alone remain,
And still suspended is our father's reign,
'Tis our's to bend, whatever Heav'n decrees,
And Heav'n, which far above our wishes sees,
Will, (let us with due resignation trust,)
For England's good dispose,—submit we must.
The Regent in his delegated power
Confirm'd, remains; and may his ev'ry hour
Of government on British hearts improve,
And gain, with England's duty, England's love.
We've told you Victor was defeated
By Graham, —a new laurel leaf
Almeida yields the British chief;
A glorious day on Albuera's plains.
There happen'd too, the self-same day,
(Much we regret 'tis our's to say),
An action, which will long be felt,
'Twixt President and little Belt.
May mutual kind consideration
Find influence with either nation,
And strife between us be no other
Than which is truest friend and brother.
Barry, at sea, the French annoys,
A fort and three “tall ships destroys.”
The Barham, a stout British sev'nty-four,
Founders near Corsica; to England's flag
Batavia falls. —A comet's brilliant track
Illumes the air, “importing change of times;”
The Spanish war a various fortune proves;
“Bellona's bridegroom” bravely stems the tide
Of each event, and turns it to success.
Cuidad Rodrigo to the leader's name
A title adds, nor less of fame
While at Almarez, on Iberia's foes,
Hill points Britannia's thunder.—Sad disgrace
Blends with domestic story,—time nor place
Protects from murder's unexampled deed,
At once the parent, wife, and infant bleed.
Nor Perceval from sanguine fury shields;
There, unprotected by the sacred walls,
Assassination's virtuous victim falls.
To, once more, Wellington and victory!
Before his better genius Marmont flies,
And Paris journals teem, of course, with lies.
And his high full-fledg'd eagle moults her plumes,
Flies back quite stripp'd of each victorious feather,
All which, France says, is owing—to the weather.
If true effects and causes you'd explore,
The Petersburgh gazette will tell you more.
Through ups and downs, in various weather;
I've tried, with small success I fear,
The unembellished path to cheer.
I've painted Aborigines
Worse than they did their arms and knees;
Of Roman Chiefs, and Saxon wiles,
I've sung in hope to gain your smiles.
Of kingdoms and what monarchs kept them,
'Till Egbert join'd in uno septem;
Of Ethelwulph, and good Saint Austin,
Who love and politics were lost in;
Of Ethelbert and Ethelbald,
Which two were but one sov'reign call'd.
Of Ethelred, and, (England's pride,)
He who the minstrels calling tried;
Anticipation wont be long,
To guess that Alfred gilds the song;
The song which next essay'd to sing
Of Elder Edward, and the King.
Athelstan who, or mem'ry fails,
Fought much in Ireland and in Wales;
And pious Edmund basely slain,
By Leolf; then came Edred's reign,
When England triumph'd o'er the Dane.
That he by Dunstan was tormented;
Edgar was mention'd more at large,
Rowed by eight princes in a barge.
Of Martyr'd Edward's tale we boast,
Because it introduced a ghost:
(In modern day no work of merit
Can otherwise go off with spirit.)
For Second Ethelred you felt,
When forced to pay (that bore) Danegelt;
We might have brought ye next a Swain,
But his can scarce be call'd a reign.
Canute and Ethelred again,
Not long your notice cou'd obtain,
Before came Edmund Ironside,
He and Canute the land divide.
I think we named among the worst
Of sov'reigns, Harold, styled the first;
Saint Edward, who abhorr'd the Devil,
Destroy'd Danegelt and cured the evil;
O'er hapless Harold's fate I wept,
While you, perhaps, my readers, slept;
Which I presume in turn to do
While singing Norman Bill's curfew.
Of Redhair'd William sets us talking;
Harry the First, I think, we found,
Died worth a hundred thousand pound;
His daughter Maude and nephew Stephen
Found things at odds, which death made even.
(If not, we somewhere have misreckon'd,)
And enter Harry named the Second;
Fair Rosamond we here must pass,
Although a most delightful lass;
And give a glance of recollection,
To Cœur de Lion, whose protection
Aided so much the martial cross,
It caused John Bull no little loss.
Now Arthur's woes, (by uncle John
Most villainously put upon);
We sadly sung, and still more grave,
Told ye some stories of a cave,
(As deep as Tunnel bored at Highgate,)
Cut underneath the town of Reigate;
Where Magna Charta darkly plotted,
Was there, as since, of course much blotted.
Then you some trivial matters heard
About King Henry the third;
And for his wife built many crosses;
Gave to the Welch their native prince,
Edward the Second;—you were since
Inform'd this Second Edward fell,
And a Third Edward bore the bell,
Who with his Sable Son o'ercame
All co-mates in the road of fame.
With pens impartial we disclosed
How Second Richard was deposed;
Doom'd to see all his hopes miscarry,
In favour of our Fourth King Harry.
The Muse's task wou'd ne'er be done,
(Talking of that King Harry's son,)
If she again to tell wou'd deign
The glory of Fifth Harry's reign;
Enough for her with tears to wail
O'er Sixth King Henry's mournful tale.
We sung of Edward, (number four,)
And his penchant for Mistress Shore;
We shudder'd at the fiend who slew
Fifth Edward and his brother.—Do
Admit, dear reader, that our pen
Murder'd—the story—o'er again.
Our lines were, like the man, deform'd;
And then we own'd no strains were ruder
Than those which told of Harry Tudor.
Eighth Harry's reign includes the lives
Of Wolsey and his master's wives;
Sixth Edward and his early worth,
And Mary's much lamented birth,
Succeeded are by feeble lays
Which aim'd to sing Eliza's praise.
On James the First we spent some breath,
And sigh'd, indignant, o'er the death
Of murder'd Charles;—wish'd Butler's pen
To lash the puritannic den
Of thieves, with Cromwell and his crew
Who, Judas like, their master slew.
You'll find some few convivial lays
To picture Charles the Second's days:
Of Second James the Muse has rated
The theme so low—she abdicated.
Some giddy joy the Bard may plead,
While celebrating Runnimede;
The Bill of Rights, and England's law
Restored by Mary and Nassau.
O'er Marlb'ro's deeds, and good Queen Anne;
When Brunswick coming to our aid,
A most delightful finish made;
Or, “rather,” says some critical effusion!
“Made a most lame and impotent conclusion.”
May somewhat of indulgence ask;
And since no fable aids the Muse,
Who may not here her subjects chuse,
But rough or smooth, plain truths rehearse,
Whether or no they suit her verse:
Your better humour will supply
My wishes, where the stream ran dry,
And Pegasus forgot to fly.
Adieu! for dulness pardon me,
And yawning I'll forgive in thee.
Sir Richard Strachan, with an equal force, captured one 80 and three 74 gun French ships, which had escaped from the battle of Trafalgar. The Abergavenny Indiaman foundered off Portland this year.
The Cape of Good Hope surrendered to General Baird and Sir Home Popham; Admiral Duckworth captured three line of battle ships, and destroyed two others, near St. Domingo.
Eighteen ships of the line, fifteen frigates, six smaller vessels, and twenty-five gunboats, were given up to the British armament which was sent to bombard Copenhagen.
General Savary, while persuading the King of Spain to go to Bayonne, once went so far as to say, “I will suffer my head to be cut off, if, within a quarter of an hour after your majesty's arrival, the Emperor shall not have recognised you as King of Spain and the Indies;”—notwithstanding this, he was told, after dining with the Usurper, that none of the Bourbon family could be permitted to reign.
Lords Gambier and Cochrane attacked the French fleet in Basque Roads, when one ship of 120 guns, five of 74, and two frigates, were driven on shore, and afterwards totally destroyed, or rendered useless; one of 80, two of 74, and one of 50, with three frigates, were burnt, either by the assailants or their own crews.
Lieutenant Hankey, (who was killed in the action) with the boats of four ships, attacked a strong flotilla of Russian gunboats, which were supposed to be impregnably stationed in Pensacola bay; they were, however, not only taken or destroyed, but a most valuable convoy captured with them.
It had long been rumoured that the members of the British Cabinet by no means agreed among themselves; and the failure of the Expedition against Walcheren encreased their disputes to so high a degree, that a public appeal to the pistol took place between two ministers holding the highest official situations in the state: they fired twice, and one of the combatants receiving a wound in the thigh, the affair terminated.
The enemy were beaten across the Alberche, with the loss of twenty pieces of cannon, and nearly 10,000 men, killed and wounded, among the former were Generals Larive and Malot, among the latter, Generals Sebastiani and Boulet. The loss of the British was proportionably severe, amounting to 6000 killed, wounded, and missing.
The insulting conduct of the French Court subsequent to the treaty of Presburgh, compelled the Emperor Francis to unsheath the sword. The capture of Vienna, and the battle of Wagram, decided the campaign against him. The heroic Tirolese were also subjugated; their glorious leader, Hoffer, murdered in military form; and the Austrian Emperor obliged to accept the terms imposed by his merciful and macnanimous conqueror.
Three people were killed and many wounded, in consequence of the tumultuous proceedings which followed the refusal of Sir Francis Burdett to submit to the authority of the British Senate.
In the isle of Rhe, also, a most gallant action was performed by the boats of the Armide, Cadmus, Monkey, and Daring, under Lieutenant Roberts, who captured and destroyed seventeen vessels. Many other brilliant exploits likewise signalized our marine.
| A Metrical History of England | |