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The Poetical Works of Reginald Heber

Heber, Reginald (1783-1826)

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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
TO LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SIR ROWLAND HILL, K.B.
  
LINES SPOKEN IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, ON LORD GRENVILLE'S INSTALLATION AS CHANCELLOR.
  
EPITAPH ON A YOUNG NAVAL OFFICER,
  
FRAGMENT ON ALCHEMY.
  
IMITATION OF A SONG,
  
HONOUR ITS OWN REWARD.
  
TRANSLATION OF A FRAGMENT OF A DANISH SONG.
  
TRANSLATION OF AN INSCRIPTION ON A MONUMENT,
  
VERSIFICATION OF THE SPEECH OF GEOORGIN TO BEYUN, (FROM THE SHAH NAMEH.)
  
FROM THE MOALLAKAH OF HARETH.
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THE BOKE OF THE PURPLE FAUCON.
  
A FRAGMENT.
  
TRANSLATION OF AN ODE OF KLOPSTOCK'S.
  
SONG TO A SCOTCH AIR.
  
THE RISING OF THE SUN.
  
SONG TO A WELCH AIR.
  
INSCRIPTION
  
TIMOUR'S COUNCILS.
  
THE SPRING JOURNEY.
  
HAPPINESS.
  
ON HEAVENLY AND EARTHLY HOPE.
  
MAN'S PILGRIMAGE.
  
SONG TO A WELCH AIR.
  
CAROL FOR MAY-DAY.
  
TO ---.
  
BOW-MEETING SONG.
  
FAREWELL.
  
PARODY OF LISTON'S “BEAUTIFUL MAID.”
  
TRANSLATION OF AN INSCRIPTION RECENTLY DISCOVERED IN SAMOS.
  
THE OUTWARD-BOUND SHIP.
  
BOW-MEETING SONG.
  
TO CHAUNCEY HARE TOWNSHEND,
  
BOW-MEETING SONG.
  
ON CROSSING THE RANGE OF HIGH LAND BETWEEN STONE AND MARKET DRAYTON, JAN. 4, 1820.
  
BALLAD.
  
SYMPATHY.
  
LINES WRITTEN TO A MARCH COMPOSED IN IMITATION OF A MILITARY BAND.
  
THE WELL OF OBLIVION.
  
THE ORACLE.
  
TO A WELCH AIR, “CODIAD YR HYDOD.”
  
THE GROUND SWELL.
  
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.
  
BOW-MEETING SONG.
  
FROM THE GULISTAN.
  
FROM THE GULISTAN.
  
FROM THE GULISTAN.
  
IMITATION OF AN ODE BY KOODRUT.
  
TRANSLATION OF A SONNET, BY THE LATE NAWAB OF OUDE, ASUF UD DOWLA.
  
LINES ADDRESSED TO MRS. HEBER.
  
AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL.

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336

HONOUR ITS OWN REWARD.

Swell, swell the shrill trumpet clear sounding afar,
Our sabres flash splendour around,
For freedom has summon'd her sons to the war,
Nor Britain has shrunk from the sound.
Let plunder's vile thirst the invaders inflame,
Let slaves for their wages be bold,
Shall valour the harvest of avarice claim?
Shall Britons be barter'd for gold?
No! free be our aid, independent our might,
Proud honour our guerdon alone;
Unhir'd be the hand that we raise in the fight,
The sword that we brandish our own.
337

Still all that we love to our thoughts shall succeed,
Their image each labour shall cheer,
For them we will conquer—for them we will bleed,
And our pay be a smile or a tear!
And oh! if returning triumphant we move,
Or sink on the land that we save,
Oh! blest by his country, his kindred, his love,
How vast the reward of the brave!
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