 | The battle of the Nile, a poem |  |
Oh, how comely it is, and how reviving
To the spirits of just men long oppress'd,
When God into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,
To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressor,
The brittle and boisterous force of violent men,—
Hardy and industrious to support
Tyrannic power; but raging to pursue
The righteous, and all such as honor truth!
He all their ammunition
And feats of war defeats;
With plain heroic magnitude of mind
And celestial vigor arm'd,
Their armories and magazines contemns,
Renders them useless; while,
With winged expedition
Swift as the lightning glance, he executes
His errand on the wicked; who, surpris'd,
Lose their defence, distracted and amaz'd.
SAMSON. AGONISTES.
To the spirits of just men long oppress'd,
When God into the hands of their deliverer
Puts invincible might,
To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressor,
The brittle and boisterous force of violent men,—
Hardy and industrious to support
Tyrannic power; but raging to pursue
The righteous, and all such as honor truth!
He all their ammunition
And feats of war defeats;
With plain heroic magnitude of mind
And celestial vigor arm'd,
Their armories and magazines contemns,
Renders them useless; while,
With winged expedition
Swift as the lightning glance, he executes
His errand on the wicked; who, surpris'd,
Lose their defence, distracted and amaz'd.
SAMSON. AGONISTES.
TO EARL SPENCER, FIRST LORD COMMISSIONER OF THE ADMIRALTY, &c.
SPENCER! were mine the pow'r, by lofty lays,Guerdon of high desert, to lift thy name
On the proud column of recording fame,
I, to bold notes, that swell the song of praise,
Had tun'd the lyre—th' immortal meed be thine,
That Freedom wreaths the patriot's brow around!—
For at thy country's call, thou, foremost found,
Did'st leave the groves where science wont to twine
Thy chaplet richly grac'd with classic flowers—
Yet, Britain claims thy care:—yet firmly guide
Her fleets to conquest born on every tide—
So shall fair Peace, with Glory in her train,
Woo thee to Althorp's tranquil haunts again,
And Victory's naval crown adorn the muses' bowr's!
1
THE BATTLE OF THE NILE.
Twas laughter loud, as, mid Aboukir's bay,
Stretch'd in proud pomp, the Gallic Navy lay,
Calm o'er the evening tide Etesian gales
Came, wing'd with health, and kiss'd the sportive sails;
And, far and wide, the painted streamers play'd,
And Ocean slept beneath a silken shade.
Stretch'd in proud pomp, the Gallic Navy lay,
Calm o'er the evening tide Etesian gales
Came, wing'd with health, and kiss'd the sportive sails;
And, far and wide, the painted streamers play'd,
And Ocean slept beneath a silken shade.
Through seas, where Treach'ry at the midnight hour
Unbarr'd lone Malta's unresisting tow'r,
Th' Invader sail'd, from British vengeance fled;
And vaunting Gallia triumph'd where he led.
The sound had ceas'd to vibrate on the ear,
That spoke, in every breeze, the victor near;
Th' o'er wearied eye, at dawn and evening pale,
That shap'd on every cloud th' advancing fail,
Pierc'd by keen blasts, no more sad vigils kept,
But clos'd in peace, and on the night-watch slept.
Unbarr'd lone Malta's unresisting tow'r,
Th' Invader sail'd, from British vengeance fled;
And vaunting Gallia triumph'd where he led.
The sound had ceas'd to vibrate on the ear,
That spoke, in every breeze, the victor near;
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That shap'd on every cloud th' advancing fail,
Pierc'd by keen blasts, no more sad vigils kept,
But clos'd in peace, and on the night-watch slept.
'Twas laughter loud, in tranquil leisure moor'd,
Ship link'd to ship th' entrusted coast secur'd;
Tier above tier, the brazen thunders spread,
Gleam'd like a bastion on its rocky bed;
Troops, charg'd with spoil, in throng'd battalions seen,
Shone bright in arms, and swarm'd the decks between;
Flat shoals behind the daring foe defy'd,
And guarded flanks immur'd on either side:
Here, rang'd o'er Ocean, floating batteries hung;
And there, the Isle an iron fortress rung.
High on his deck, that, like a mountain brow,
Low'rd o'er th' unheeded wave that broke below,
Stood the brave Chief; and, in triumphant state,
Gaz'd on his Fleet, and mock'd malignant fate.
Ship link'd to ship th' entrusted coast secur'd;
Tier above tier, the brazen thunders spread,
Gleam'd like a bastion on its rocky bed;
Troops, charg'd with spoil, in throng'd battalions seen,
Shone bright in arms, and swarm'd the decks between;
Flat shoals behind the daring foe defy'd,
And guarded flanks immur'd on either side:
Here, rang'd o'er Ocean, floating batteries hung;
And there, the Isle an iron fortress rung.
High on his deck, that, like a mountain brow,
Low'rd o'er th' unheeded wave that broke below,
Stood the brave Chief; and, in triumphant state,
Gaz'd on his Fleet, and mock'd malignant fate.
“The prize is gain'd! lo, Gaul's embattled host
“March to proud conquest o'er the plunder'd coast;
“The warriors scale yon desolated walls,
“Beneath their sword the swarth Ægyptian falls.
“The Arab courser flies: all, all is ours!
“The Gallic streamer waves o'er Cairo's tow'rs!
“Fill high the goblet, and the feast prepare:
“Seamen, the prize is gain'd!—the plunder share!”
“March to proud conquest o'er the plunder'd coast;
“The warriors scale yon desolated walls,
“Beneath their sword the swarth Ægyptian falls.
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“The Gallic streamer waves o'er Cairo's tow'rs!
“Fill high the goblet, and the feast prepare:
“Seamen, the prize is gain'd!—the plunder share!”
Ah! at that feast, did none, proud Man! recal
The hand of vengeance on th' Assyrian wall?
Fate spread the banquet; and the bowl ran o'er
With widow's streaming tears, and warrior's gore:—
Foreboding spirits, with funereal cry,
O'er the doom'd victims swept unheeded by:
Strange horrors shadow'd o'er the troubled tide,
And Nelson came—th' avenging God his guide!
The hand of vengeance on th' Assyrian wall?
Fate spread the banquet; and the bowl ran o'er
With widow's streaming tears, and warrior's gore:—
Foreboding spirits, with funereal cry,
O'er the doom'd victims swept unheeded by:
Strange horrors shadow'd o'er the troubled tide,
And Nelson came—th' avenging God his guide!
Ill-fated Gaul, ask pale Iberia's coast
Who broke her strength, who thinn'd her countless coast?
Who, on the day while doubtful battle hung,
Dash'd his bold prow surrounding flames among;
From ship to ship, with step resistless trod;
And flash'd on fear's wild gaze like ocean's god?
Who broke her strength, who thinn'd her countless coast?
Who, on the day while doubtful battle hung,
Dash'd his bold prow surrounding flames among;
From ship to ship, with step resistless trod;
And flash'd on fear's wild gaze like ocean's god?
Down the long line of battle, 'ere it rag'd,
Triumphant shouts the proud event presag'd;
France heard the death-cry, 'ere she felt the blow,
And, mute with horror, ey'd th' advancing foe.
Triumphant shouts the proud event presag'd;
France heard the death-cry, 'ere she felt the blow,
And, mute with horror, ey'd th' advancing foe.
4
In graceful state, as rang'd in long array,
The pomp and triumph of the festive day,
Before their Monarch's gaze proud navies ride,
And gild with mimic war the glowing tide:
Thus ship by ship in slow successive train,
Pennant and streamer glittering o'er the main,
The British Fleet her awful order kept,
And round the foe in pomp of battle swept.—
Ah, gallant chief! who led'st th' adventurous host,
I see thee wreck'd on Egypt's faithless coast!—
Let others sing that oft' mid ships on flame
Thy hand has pluck'd from death the wreath of fame,
I hail the warrior in misfortune great—
The hero rising from the storms of fate!
Yes!—firm of soul, I view thee, Trowbridge! stand,
Point the low tide, and mark the treacherous strand;—
O'er Britain's glory watch with guardian eye,
And guide to fame each warrior floating by.
The pomp and triumph of the festive day,
Before their Monarch's gaze proud navies ride,
And gild with mimic war the glowing tide:
Thus ship by ship in slow successive train,
Pennant and streamer glittering o'er the main,
The British Fleet her awful order kept,
And round the foe in pomp of battle swept.—
Ah, gallant chief! who led'st th' adventurous host,
I see thee wreck'd on Egypt's faithless coast!—
Let others sing that oft' mid ships on flame
Thy hand has pluck'd from death the wreath of fame,
I hail the warrior in misfortune great—
The hero rising from the storms of fate!
Yes!—firm of soul, I view thee, Trowbridge! stand,
Point the low tide, and mark the treacherous strand;—
O'er Britain's glory watch with guardian eye,
And guide to fame each warrior floating by.
The signal flam'd, around a host enclos'd
The thunder ceas'd not, nor the fire reposed;
Fleet clash'd on fleet; on lightning, lightning stream'd;
Beneath the blaze the crimson billow gleam'd,
While Gallia's shatter'd line, where Britain steer'd,
Ship after ship, her flag of triumph rear'd.—
In vain dark night her veil o'er ocean threw,
And hid the wreck from victory's eagle view;—
The angel of destruction from on high
Rush'd with red wing that blaz'd along the sky,
Stalk'd on the wave with garment dy'd in blood,
And lash'd the billows of the sounding flood!
Death heard his voice; and, as he tower'd in air,
Shook arrowy lightnings from his meteor hair.
A wild confusion of uncertain sound,
Loud shouts, and shrieks of horror, rung around;—
The groan of anguish, and the brazen roar,
And the slow wave that heav'd the dead on shore;—
And all confused came floating on the sight,
Thro' transitory flames of lurid light:
Save where aloft, mid either navy rais'd,
Tower'd a vast wreck, that far o'er ocean blaz'd;
Like Etna pouring from the sea-girt height
A fiery torrent thro' the storm of night.
There frenzy's thrilling outcry smote the ear;
And visions flash'd, that struck the brave with fear.
Thro' the torn decks, rent sides, and shiver'd sails,
As rush'd th' expanding flame before the gales,
Pale swarms were seen, that dash'd in wild dismay
Thro' bursting fires that clos'd around their way:
Some on the masts and blazing cordage hung,
Or head-long plung'd the crowded waves among;
And on the pile of dying and of dead,
Gash'd with wide wounds, the unyielding chieftain bled!
Now seen, and now no more!—Mid globes of fire
That burst around, and blaz'd above the pire,
Death wav'd his torch, and fir'd th' imprison'd blast,
High in mid air the shiver'd fabric cast,
And rode upon the storm, and shouted as it past.
As, when incumbent o'er th' accursed town,
Th' avenging angel rain'd destruction down,
Pour'd forth the fountains of eternal ire,
And swept the land with streams of living fire;
Thus, in consuming tempests wing'd with flame—
Prone from the sky, the burning fragments came;
While echoes from the wave, the air, the shore,
Suddenly rung with momentary roar:
And all was still!—dread silence reigned around,
Thick darkness fell upon the deep profound:
The victor paus'd—the scene of carnage clos'd,
And, hush'd in sullen horror, war repos'd!—
Death yell'd again!—the sun, that set in blood,
Dawn'd on the clash of arms and crimson flood:
Nor, when its orb hung westering to the night,
Ceas'd, heard at intervals, the dying fight,
Till Nelson, bleeding on his victor prow,
Look'd down with pity on his prostrate foe;
Rear'd his proud flag a captive navy o'er;
And still'd with hymn of praise, the battle's roar—
“Almighty! Lord of Hosts! hear, hear our cry!—
“Thine, God of battle! thine, the victory!”
The thunder ceas'd not, nor the fire reposed;
Fleet clash'd on fleet; on lightning, lightning stream'd;
Beneath the blaze the crimson billow gleam'd,
5
Ship after ship, her flag of triumph rear'd.—
In vain dark night her veil o'er ocean threw,
And hid the wreck from victory's eagle view;—
The angel of destruction from on high
Rush'd with red wing that blaz'd along the sky,
Stalk'd on the wave with garment dy'd in blood,
And lash'd the billows of the sounding flood!
Death heard his voice; and, as he tower'd in air,
Shook arrowy lightnings from his meteor hair.
A wild confusion of uncertain sound,
Loud shouts, and shrieks of horror, rung around;—
The groan of anguish, and the brazen roar,
And the slow wave that heav'd the dead on shore;—
And all confused came floating on the sight,
Thro' transitory flames of lurid light:
Save where aloft, mid either navy rais'd,
Tower'd a vast wreck, that far o'er ocean blaz'd;
Like Etna pouring from the sea-girt height
A fiery torrent thro' the storm of night.
There frenzy's thrilling outcry smote the ear;
And visions flash'd, that struck the brave with fear.
6
As rush'd th' expanding flame before the gales,
Pale swarms were seen, that dash'd in wild dismay
Thro' bursting fires that clos'd around their way:
Some on the masts and blazing cordage hung,
Or head-long plung'd the crowded waves among;
And on the pile of dying and of dead,
Gash'd with wide wounds, the unyielding chieftain bled!
Now seen, and now no more!—Mid globes of fire
That burst around, and blaz'd above the pire,
Death wav'd his torch, and fir'd th' imprison'd blast,
High in mid air the shiver'd fabric cast,
And rode upon the storm, and shouted as it past.
As, when incumbent o'er th' accursed town,
Th' avenging angel rain'd destruction down,
Pour'd forth the fountains of eternal ire,
And swept the land with streams of living fire;
Thus, in consuming tempests wing'd with flame—
Prone from the sky, the burning fragments came;
While echoes from the wave, the air, the shore,
Suddenly rung with momentary roar:
And all was still!—dread silence reigned around,
Thick darkness fell upon the deep profound:
7
And, hush'd in sullen horror, war repos'd!—
Death yell'd again!—the sun, that set in blood,
Dawn'd on the clash of arms and crimson flood:
Nor, when its orb hung westering to the night,
Ceas'd, heard at intervals, the dying fight,
Till Nelson, bleeding on his victor prow,
Look'd down with pity on his prostrate foe;
Rear'd his proud flag a captive navy o'er;
And still'd with hymn of praise, the battle's roar—
“Almighty! Lord of Hosts! hear, hear our cry!—
“Thine, God of battle! thine, the victory!”
Bold Hero! grac'd by many a glorious scar—
Whose arm, unconquer'd, fell in front of war!—
Nelson! a nation's voice thy name shall raise;
Applauding senates consecrate thy praise;
A grateful Monarch twine around thy head
Wreaths that shall deck the wound where Britain bled.
But not a nation's voice that swells thy name,
Senates that fix, and Kings that crown thy fame;
Nor rescu'd realms aveng'd, confer thy prize;—
A purer source the high reward supplies.
Favour'd of Heav'n!—fit instrument, design'd
To stay the pestilence that wastes mankind;
Thy arm, again, on Ham's astonish'd shore,
Renews the wonders of the days of yore;
O'er ocean lifts th' avenger's fiery rod,
And smites the spoiler that blasphem'd his God!
Whose arm, unconquer'd, fell in front of war!—
Nelson! a nation's voice thy name shall raise;
Applauding senates consecrate thy praise;
A grateful Monarch twine around thy head
Wreaths that shall deck the wound where Britain bled.
But not a nation's voice that swells thy name,
Senates that fix, and Kings that crown thy fame;
Nor rescu'd realms aveng'd, confer thy prize;—
A purer source the high reward supplies.
8
To stay the pestilence that wastes mankind;
Thy arm, again, on Ham's astonish'd shore,
Renews the wonders of the days of yore;
O'er ocean lifts th' avenger's fiery rod,
And smites the spoiler that blasphem'd his God!
Immortal spirits of th' heroic dead:—
Ye, at the Nile's proud fight, who bravely bled!—
Ye—who, with Howe, oft pierc'd' the firm array
Of Gaul's throng'd fleet, and bad the seas obey!—
Or fell beneath the flag that Jarvis rear'd,
When the bold chief to arm'd Iberia steer'd;
Grappled her floating bulwarks to his host,
And with her own armada swept her coast!—
And Ye—whose streamers o'er Batavia blaz'd
Calm on the fiery flood, when Duncan gaz'd;
Curb'd, in mid battle's heat, th' avenging blow,
And dragg'd from floating heaps the wounded foe!—
Oh, rest in peace! while History graves your name,
And brazen columns lift your deeds to fame,
Recording Albion o'er your gather'd dust
Piles the proud tomb, and rears the laurell'd bust:—
There shall a race, thro' ages yet unborn,
Glow o'er the battles that your urn adorn;
Pledg'd to their country, stretch their arm on high,
Point their brave sire, and vow like him to die!
Ye, at the Nile's proud fight, who bravely bled!—
Ye—who, with Howe, oft pierc'd' the firm array
Of Gaul's throng'd fleet, and bad the seas obey!—
Or fell beneath the flag that Jarvis rear'd,
When the bold chief to arm'd Iberia steer'd;
Grappled her floating bulwarks to his host,
And with her own armada swept her coast!—
And Ye—whose streamers o'er Batavia blaz'd
Calm on the fiery flood, when Duncan gaz'd;
Curb'd, in mid battle's heat, th' avenging blow,
And dragg'd from floating heaps the wounded foe!—
Oh, rest in peace! while History graves your name,
And brazen columns lift your deeds to fame,
Recording Albion o'er your gather'd dust
Piles the proud tomb, and rears the laurell'd bust:—
9
Glow o'er the battles that your urn adorn;
Pledg'd to their country, stretch their arm on high,
Point their brave sire, and vow like him to die!
Genius of Gallia! whose triumphant throne
Towr'd on the Pyramid's aërial stone!
Beneath whose tread, unnotic'd spoils among,
War's blood-stain'd hand the cross and crescent flung!
Art thou too fall'n from thy exalted height,
Shiver'd the iron sceptre of thy might?
Thou! who didst shout to all the nations round
By nature link'd to Egypt's central bound,
“Here will I fix where commerce has design'd
“The throne, and mark'd emporium of mankind:
“Hence shall my fleets, whereever oceans roll,
“Surround the world, and shoot from pole to pole—
“Raise, Berenice! thy forgotten wall!
“Shake off the dust at my commanding call!
“Thence, sink, ye slaves! the compass in your hand,
“Well after well, and roof with domes the sand,
“Till Copto's rising towrs at distance gleam,
“And stretch their shade o'er Nile's recover'd stream—
“I, I, once more, on Ægypt's faithless soil,
“Will pile the earth, and tax a nation's toil;
“Draw out the long canal, and tinge again
“Nile's dusky flood with Edom's purple main;
“To far Arsinoe wed Pelusium's shore,
“And rouse the desart with the dashing oar!—
Towr'd on the Pyramid's aërial stone!
Beneath whose tread, unnotic'd spoils among,
War's blood-stain'd hand the cross and crescent flung!
Art thou too fall'n from thy exalted height,
Shiver'd the iron sceptre of thy might?
Thou! who didst shout to all the nations round
By nature link'd to Egypt's central bound,
“Here will I fix where commerce has design'd
“The throne, and mark'd emporium of mankind:
“Hence shall my fleets, whereever oceans roll,
“Surround the world, and shoot from pole to pole—
“Ptolemy Philadelphus built a city on the west coast of the Red Sea, to which he gave the name of Berenice: From Berenice the goods were conveyed by land to Coptos, a city three miles distant from the Nile, but communicating with that river by a navigable canal. The distance between Berenice and Coptos, was 258 Roman miles, and the road lay through the desart of Thebais, almost entirely destitute of water; but the attention of a powerful monarch made provision for supplying this want, by searching for springs; and, whereever these were found, he built inns, or more probably caravanseras. In this channel, the intercourse between the East and West continued to be carried on during two hundred and fifty years.” Robertson's Disquisition on Ancient India.
“Shake off the dust at my commanding call!
“Thence, sink, ye slaves! the compass in your hand,
“Well after well, and roof with domes the sand,
“Till Copto's rising towrs at distance gleam,
“And stretch their shade o'er Nile's recover'd stream—
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“Will pile the earth, and tax a nation's toil;
“Draw out the long canal, and tinge again
“Nile's dusky flood with Edom's purple main;
“To far Arsinoe wed Pelusium's shore,
“And rouse the desart with the dashing oar!—
“For me, fam'd Yemen! rear thy fav'rite steed,
“And aromatic groves that balsam bleed:
“To braid me, Ormuz! scoop thy pearly bed:
“Schiraz! to cool my lip, thy vintage shed:
“Golconda! gem my brow:—Thou, loom of Ind,
“To shade my limbs thy fairy web unwind:
“And green Tidore, and Ternat's rifled vale
“Breathe round my haunts, and scent with spice the gale!
“And aromatic groves that balsam bleed:
“To braid me, Ormuz! scoop thy pearly bed:
“Schiraz! to cool my lip, thy vintage shed:
“Golconda! gem my brow:—Thou, loom of Ind,
“To shade my limbs thy fairy web unwind:
“And green Tidore, and Ternat's rifled vale
“Breathe round my haunts, and scent with spice the gale!
“South! waft thy mines from Ophir's silver shore,
“And, Tarshish, fret my roof with golden ore!
“And, Tarshish, fret my roof with golden ore!
“Ye Caravans! that, in unbroken train,
“West from far Gambia, and the Atlantic main,
“O'er desarts parch'd beneath the solar flame,
“Wastes without bound, and realms without a name,
“Slow gather as ye stretch your long array
“Tribe after tribe that darken all the way,
“To Cairo's walls the wearied camel steer,
“Urge his stiff joints, and goad his slow career,
“On his gall'd loins the yearly tribute pile,
“And, with the floating treasure, bridge the Nile.
“West from far Gambia, and the Atlantic main,
“O'er desarts parch'd beneath the solar flame,
“Wastes without bound, and realms without a name,
“Slow gather as ye stretch your long array
“Tribe after tribe that darken all the way,
11
“Urge his stiff joints, and goad his slow career,
“On his gall'd loins the yearly tribute pile,
“And, with the floating treasure, bridge the Nile.
“Thou North! whose land-lock'd sea before me lies,
“Gemm'd with green isles and towr's that proudly rise,—
“Where letters, sciences, and arts, reside—
“The sons of Genius send to swell my pride!
“On you tall pillar whose aërial brow
“O'erlooks far Lybia's sands that float below;
“Whose crest gigantic guards the mould'ring stone
“Wreck of past glory, and a chief unknown;
“My statue raise, and wreathe around the pile
“The sculptur'd victories of the Man of Nile.”—
“Gemm'd with green isles and towr's that proudly rise,—
“Where letters, sciences, and arts, reside—
“The sons of Genius send to swell my pride!
“On you tall pillar whose aërial brow
“O'erlooks far Lybia's sands that float below;
“Whose crest gigantic guards the mould'ring stone
“Wreck of past glory, and a chief unknown;
“My statue raise, and wreathe around the pile
“The sculptur'd victories of the Man of Nile.”—
How art thou fallen!—Behold, an exile band
Urg'd by fell rapine o'er a plunder'd land!
Hark! Earth re-echoes the exulting cry,
“Show us the Chiefs that swept in triumph by?
“Who bad their barbarous hordes the East subdue,
“Mahmud, and Timur's trace of blood pursue:
“Rush o'er
the bounds that witness'd Ammon's tear
“When chain'd ambition broke his giant spear,
“From Asia's throne dash Britain's scepter'd pride,
“And waste a world beyond far Gange's tide”—
Urg'd by fell rapine o'er a plunder'd land!
Hark! Earth re-echoes the exulting cry,
“Show us the Chiefs that swept in triumph by?
“Who bad their barbarous hordes the East subdue,
“Mahmud, and Timur's trace of blood pursue:
“Rush o'er
Alexander, (on the refusal of his army to proceed) erected altars, to mark the bounds of his conquests in Asia, probably between Aurungabad, and the conflux of the Beyah and Setlege, at Firosepour. See the admirable Memoirs of a Map of Hindoostan, p. 94. by Major Rennell.
“When chain'd ambition broke his giant spear,
12
“And waste a world beyond far Gange's tide”—
How art thou fall'n! gaunt Famine, day by day,
Has trac'd from corse to corse thy desperate way:
Strewn o'er the waste th' expiring Warriors lye,
Far Gallia floats before their closing eye,
While hov'ring Vultures on a distant shore,
Shriek to their cry, and plunge their beaks in gore.
Has trac'd from corse to corse thy desperate way:
Strewn o'er the waste th' expiring Warriors lye,
Far Gallia floats before their closing eye,
While hov'ring Vultures on a distant shore,
Shriek to their cry, and plunge their beaks in gore.
The Arab war-horse has thy strength subdu'd,
And waded fetlock-deep in Gallic blood?
Press'd on thy steel, regardless of the wound,
Swept with red mane thy chiefs that bit the ground,
And, wildly neighing to the brazen roar,
Arch'd his proud Crest thy flaming Phalanx o'er!
And waded fetlock-deep in Gallic blood?
Press'd on thy steel, regardless of the wound,
Swept with red mane thy chiefs that bit the ground,
And, wildly neighing to the brazen roar,
Arch'd his proud Crest thy flaming Phalanx o'er!
Where rests the chief, whose arm the battle led,
While Kings and all their hosts like shadows fled?
Who up the rampir'd height undaunted flew,
And o'er the crags his Iron thunder drew,
Where nature, thron'd amid eternal snows,
Bad Alps on Alps the mountain barrier close?
Where rests the Chief, who weigh'd the fate of Rome,
And sign'd on Formio's field pale Austria's doom?—
Hark, the loud voice of rumour loads the gale,
And Europe spreads from realm to realm the tale:
He rests in death, the dream of Glory o'er,
He rests untimely on a barbarous shore!—
Not in the front of War, mid Armies slain,
Fell the bold Conqueror, bleeding on the plain,
While Glory wav'd her banner o'er his head,
And sooth'd the hero, as his spirit fled:
Lo! there he lies, by treach'ry girt around;
The grim Assassin sternly eyes the wound,
Taunts the Invader, as he groans in Death,
And loads with Ægypt's curse his parting breath.
While Kings and all their hosts like shadows fled?
Who up the rampir'd height undaunted flew,
And o'er the crags his Iron thunder drew,
Where nature, thron'd amid eternal snows,
Bad Alps on Alps the mountain barrier close?
Where rests the Chief, who weigh'd the fate of Rome,
And sign'd on Formio's field pale Austria's doom?—
13
And Europe spreads from realm to realm the tale:
He rests in death, the dream of Glory o'er,
He rests untimely on a barbarous shore!—
Not in the front of War, mid Armies slain,
Fell the bold Conqueror, bleeding on the plain,
While Glory wav'd her banner o'er his head,
And sooth'd the hero, as his spirit fled:
Lo! there he lies, by treach'ry girt around;
The grim Assassin sternly eyes the wound,
Taunts the Invader, as he groans in Death,
And loads with Ægypt's curse his parting breath.
Gaul! in whose soul, through ev'ry thirsty vein,
Swells the “fierce spirit of the first born Cain;”
Whose banner, flaming from th' infernal loom,
In vengeance waves o'er Nature's crouded tomb,—
Where'er thy host, beneath its pomp unfurl'd,
O'ershadow'd, as they pass'd, th' unpeopled world:
Stern Foe! when Albion bad the battle cease,
And, arm'd for victory, woo'd returning peace,
Thy rage let slip th' exterminating brood,
The dogs of War, that lap the stream of blood,
Famine, that grasps in Death th' unfurrow'd clod,
And pestilence, that scents where slaughter trod!—
Swells the “fierce spirit of the first born Cain;”
Whose banner, flaming from th' infernal loom,
In vengeance waves o'er Nature's crouded tomb,—
Where'er thy host, beneath its pomp unfurl'd,
O'ershadow'd, as they pass'd, th' unpeopled world:
Stern Foe! when Albion bad the battle cease,
And, arm'd for victory, woo'd returning peace,
Thy rage let slip th' exterminating brood,
The dogs of War, that lap the stream of blood,
14
And pestilence, that scents where slaughter trod!—
Ah! had thy soul to soothing peace inclin'd,
A narrower compass had thy crimes confin'd:
Now arming Vengeance flames th' Atlantic o'er,
And taunting insult shakes thy threaten'd shore;—
“The Idols of thy worship, France, behold:—
“The sceptred Regicides, that stab for gold!”
A narrower compass had thy crimes confin'd:
Now arming Vengeance flames th' Atlantic o'er,
And taunting insult shakes thy threaten'd shore;—
“The Idols of thy worship, France, behold:—
“The sceptred Regicides, that stab for gold!”
Though howling Furies urge thee on to war,
And rage and mad ambition yoke thy car;
Yet, holier held—ador'd above the rest,
Base Mammon builds his altar in thy breast.
And rage and mad ambition yoke thy car;
Yet, holier held—ador'd above the rest,
Base Mammon builds his altar in thy breast.
Where Marble temples wav'd their vanes on high,
Or the low Fane retiring fled the eye;—
Saints, round whose brow, the silver Glory roll'd,—
The God that o'er his Altar flam'd in gold,—
The cup by consecrated myst'ries blest,—
Cross, Crosier, Cope, and rich-embroider'd vest,—
Each votive gift, that pain and sorrow gave,
And the gilt trophy o'er the Warrior's grave,—
These, price of blood, th' apostate spoiler bore,
And sternly grasp'd the sacrilegious ore!
Or the low Fane retiring fled the eye;—
Saints, round whose brow, the silver Glory roll'd,—
The God that o'er his Altar flam'd in gold,—
The cup by consecrated myst'ries blest,—
Cross, Crosier, Cope, and rich-embroider'd vest,—
Each votive gift, that pain and sorrow gave,
And the gilt trophy o'er the Warrior's grave,—
These, price of blood, th' apostate spoiler bore,
And sternly grasp'd the sacrilegious ore!
15
Ah! from that hour, when, in th' Abyss below,
Exulting fiends awhile forgot their wo—
When, on the plunder'd shrine thy senate trod,
Hail'd the Blasphemer that deny'd a God—
Bad Death triumphant seal th' eternal doom,
And close the gates of Mercy on the tomb;
Hell has enlarg'd thy bounds, to swell thy shame
With crimes unknown, and deeds without a name.
Exulting fiends awhile forgot their wo—
When, on the plunder'd shrine thy senate trod,
Hail'd the Blasphemer that deny'd a God—
Bad Death triumphant seal th' eternal doom,
And close the gates of Mercy on the tomb;
Hell has enlarg'd thy bounds, to swell thy shame
With crimes unknown, and deeds without a name.
Oh, thou! that, by the Loire's forsaken side,
Day after day, each slow-returning tide;
While interdicted billows, foul with gore,
Heav'd back the dead upon their native shore,
Mid hov'ring birds that dim'd the noontide beam,
And dogs that snuff'd afar the tainted stream;
Didst swell again the hoarse-resounding flood
With martyr'd hosts that seal'd their faith in blood;
Death's festering limbs to life and beauty chain,
Then hurl them to the monsters of the Main.—
Thou!—that, when Hell's slow hand, with murder tir'd,
On Lyon's crowded mass the cannon fir'd;
Badst, one by one, the mute survivors sweep
In mock procession by th' unburied heap;
And, with uplifted dagger, still as death,
Stoodst o'er them list'ning to each whisper'd breath;—
Insatiate Demon! o'er the ruins bend,
Where crush'd Helvetia's groans to heav'n ascend.
Day after day, each slow-returning tide;
While interdicted billows, foul with gore,
Heav'd back the dead upon their native shore,
Mid hov'ring birds that dim'd the noontide beam,
And dogs that snuff'd afar the tainted stream;
Didst swell again the hoarse-resounding flood
With martyr'd hosts that seal'd their faith in blood;
Death's festering limbs to life and beauty chain,
Then hurl them to the monsters of the Main.—
Thou!—that, when Hell's slow hand, with murder tir'd,
On Lyon's crowded mass the cannon fir'd;
Badst, one by one, the mute survivors sweep
In mock procession by th' unburied heap;
16
Stoodst o'er them list'ning to each whisper'd breath;—
Insatiate Demon! o'er the ruins bend,
Where crush'd Helvetia's groans to heav'n ascend.
Wo to the land—where Freedom did reside,
Unnerv'd by luxury, unyok'd by pride!
Lo! in the dust Morat's demolish'd fane
Where Freedom pil'd the bones of tyrants slain,—
Lo! o'er the shrine flows Uri's mournful wave
Which Freedom rear'd o'er Tell's distinguish'd grave—
In secret glens where peace alone was found,
Where never swain had scal'd his rocky bound,
Where daily toil supply'd each calm desire,
Nor stray'd a wish beyond the evening fire:—
On the green mountain and the thymy rock
Where pip'd the shepherd to his summer flock;
Up shelving banks, whose summit bleak and bare
Lowr'd on the vent'rous plough that hung in air;
Where man, that view'd one spot on earth his own,
Forc'd the slow produce from th' unwilling stone,
In happier seasons hous'd the number'd grain,
And look'd unenvying o'er the golden plain;—
There rush'd, stern fiend of France, thy ruthless hord!
And hill, and dale, and mountain, curs'd thy sword.
Unnerv'd by luxury, unyok'd by pride!
Lo! in the dust Morat's demolish'd fane
Where Freedom pil'd the bones of tyrants slain,—
Lo! o'er the shrine flows Uri's mournful wave
Which Freedom rear'd o'er Tell's distinguish'd grave—
In secret glens where peace alone was found,
Where never swain had scal'd his rocky bound,
Where daily toil supply'd each calm desire,
Nor stray'd a wish beyond the evening fire:—
On the green mountain and the thymy rock
Where pip'd the shepherd to his summer flock;
Up shelving banks, whose summit bleak and bare
Lowr'd on the vent'rous plough that hung in air;
Where man, that view'd one spot on earth his own,
Forc'd the slow produce from th' unwilling stone,
In happier seasons hous'd the number'd grain,
And look'd unenvying o'er the golden plain;—
17
And hill, and dale, and mountain, curs'd thy sword.
Did none resist?—before the invading host
None fall in arms upon his native coast?
A race went forth—the woman mock'd at fear,
Fought mid the ranks, and fell the warrior near—
A race went forth—the grandsire, father, son,
March'd side by side, and deem'd the battle won;—
March'd where their sires of old had proudly bled,
And clash'd their iron sheilds as Austria fled!—
Ah, hapless race! in vain each bosom glow'd,
And life, thro' all, one kindred current flow'd!
Gaul! by thy fraud subdu'd, the patriot band
Dy'd with fraternal blood each murderous hand:
While thou aloof, upon the mountain height
Towerd'st like a vulture hanging o'er the fight;
And, when the slaughter ceas'd upon the plain,
Did'st rush in triumph down, and spoil the slain.
None fall in arms upon his native coast?
A race went forth—the woman mock'd at fear,
Fought mid the ranks, and fell the warrior near—
A race went forth—the grandsire, father, son,
March'd side by side, and deem'd the battle won;—
March'd where their sires of old had proudly bled,
And clash'd their iron sheilds as Austria fled!—
Ah, hapless race! in vain each bosom glow'd,
And life, thro' all, one kindred current flow'd!
Gaul! by thy fraud subdu'd, the patriot band
Dy'd with fraternal blood each murderous hand:
While thou aloof, upon the mountain height
Towerd'st like a vulture hanging o'er the fight;
And, when the slaughter ceas'd upon the plain,
Did'st rush in triumph down, and spoil the slain.
Thus rose thy pow'r!—fell discord led the way,
Precedes the conquest, and prepares thy sway—
Lo! there, rebellion claim'd thy proffer'd aid—
Corruption here th' entrusted realm betray'd!
Terror, ere yet th' invited plunderer came,
On tributary treaties stamp'd her shame;
Or treachery min'd unseen, or atheist pride
Stalk'd in the mid-day glare, and God defy'd.
Yet, tho' awhile thou raise thy brow sublime,
And stretch thy sceptre forth from clime to clime,
Spread thy wide arch of empire, from the main
To distant Tyber's desolated plain;
Vengeance ere'while shall lift her iron mace,
And dash thy prone Colossus from its base;
And nations, bruis'd beneath th' oppressor's rod,
View justice thund'ring from the throne of God!—
Precedes the conquest, and prepares thy sway—
Lo! there, rebellion claim'd thy proffer'd aid—
Corruption here th' entrusted realm betray'd!
18
On tributary treaties stamp'd her shame;
Or treachery min'd unseen, or atheist pride
Stalk'd in the mid-day glare, and God defy'd.
Yet, tho' awhile thou raise thy brow sublime,
And stretch thy sceptre forth from clime to clime,
Spread thy wide arch of empire, from the main
To distant Tyber's desolated plain;
Vengeance ere'while shall lift her iron mace,
And dash thy prone Colossus from its base;
And nations, bruis'd beneath th' oppressor's rod,
View justice thund'ring from the throne of God!—
Albion! on thee they call:—earth groans around!
Queen of the isles! thou tower'st with vict'ry crown'd.
Thou, like a Pharos, on thy rocky height
Shins't with new lustre 'mid the storms of night:
Fierce and more fierce, rolls on th' o'erwhelming wave,
Stretch forth thy hand the shatter'd world to save;
The wreck of empires reels before the wind;
Go forth, the guardian angel of mankind!—
Queen of the isles! thou tower'st with vict'ry crown'd.
Thou, like a Pharos, on thy rocky height
Shins't with new lustre 'mid the storms of night:
Fierce and more fierce, rolls on th' o'erwhelming wave,
Stretch forth thy hand the shatter'd world to save;
The wreck of empires reels before the wind;
Go forth, the guardian angel of mankind!—
Albion! while stream thy banners o'er the deep,
And Gaul's wreck'd fleets beneath the bastion sleep,
Where daring Bridport with defiance vain
Strikes on her forts the trident of the main:
While commerce loos'ning to each wind thy sail,
With wealth of either India loads the gale:—
Say, wilt thou sue for peace, and send once more
The slighted olive branch that victory bore?
Loud rings the isle—“Lo, Gaul! yon countless host
“Of captur'd fleets that belt the British coast—
“These, Belgium launch'd—there towr's Iberia's pride,
“And these, thy glory once, the world defy'd!—
“Look o'er the realm—how awful on the sight
“Gleams an arm'd nation, marshall'd for the fight.
“Here yet ‘to arms’ the gothic genius calls,
“And waves her banner o'er yon castle walls.
“The race of Barons bold yon legions lead,
“The flow'r of Britain to the tented mead.
“Go thou, from gloomy woods, and lonely caves,
“To distant slaughter drag reluctant slaves.
“Here Themis arms her voluntary train,
“Here commerce leagues for war the sons of gain.
“Peace, mid thy haunts! where Cam and Isis glide,
“Youth plumes his brow with military pride!—
“Why quits the yeoman life's domestic charms
“To rush unbidden mid the clash of arms?
“Why yon unwearied swains, at close of day,
“Unyoke the steed, and join the war array;
“Or, rous'd from sleep, 'ere labour eyes the morn,
“Prevent the summons of the bugle horn?
“Why all, when Gallia pour'd th' invading host,
“Sought willing wounds on Erin's rescu'd coast?
And Gaul's wreck'd fleets beneath the bastion sleep,
19
Strikes on her forts the trident of the main:
While commerce loos'ning to each wind thy sail,
With wealth of either India loads the gale:—
Say, wilt thou sue for peace, and send once more
The slighted olive branch that victory bore?
Loud rings the isle—“Lo, Gaul! yon countless host
“Of captur'd fleets that belt the British coast—
“These, Belgium launch'd—there towr's Iberia's pride,
“And these, thy glory once, the world defy'd!—
“Look o'er the realm—how awful on the sight
“Gleams an arm'd nation, marshall'd for the fight.
“Here yet ‘to arms’ the gothic genius calls,
“And waves her banner o'er yon castle walls.
“The race of Barons bold yon legions lead,
“The flow'r of Britain to the tented mead.
“Go thou, from gloomy woods, and lonely caves,
“To distant slaughter drag reluctant slaves.
“Here Themis arms her voluntary train,
“Here commerce leagues for war the sons of gain.
“Peace, mid thy haunts! where Cam and Isis glide,
“Youth plumes his brow with military pride!—
20
“To rush unbidden mid the clash of arms?
“Why yon unwearied swains, at close of day,
“Unyoke the steed, and join the war array;
“Or, rous'd from sleep, 'ere labour eyes the morn,
“Prevent the summons of the bugle horn?
“Why all, when Gallia pour'd th' invading host,
“Sought willing wounds on Erin's rescu'd coast?
“Stern foe! we heard th' exterminating word:
“Go, flame relentless!—Go, insatiate sword!
“I, on yon Isle, in battle's fiery car
“Will launch the thunder of consuming war.
“Waste be the realm, like Tyre that reign'd of yore!
“There never ship shall anchor on the shore,—
“There never more, with solitary tread,
“On the bare rock, his net the fisher spread:—
“One groan of death shall rise, and none reply:
“On one lone column rest the stranger eye,
“Where vengeance graves upon the trophy'd pile,
“This victor Gallia rear'd on Albion's isle!”
—“We heard the vow, exterminating Gaul!
“And rose at liberty's parental call—
“Throne, city, hut—one will, one voice, one soul,
“Rung round the isle, and arm'd th' united whole!”
“Go, flame relentless!—Go, insatiate sword!
“I, on yon Isle, in battle's fiery car
“Will launch the thunder of consuming war.
“Waste be the realm, like Tyre that reign'd of yore!
“There never ship shall anchor on the shore,—
“There never more, with solitary tread,
“On the bare rock, his net the fisher spread:—
“One groan of death shall rise, and none reply:
“On one lone column rest the stranger eye,
“Where vengeance graves upon the trophy'd pile,
“This victor Gallia rear'd on Albion's isle!”
—“We heard the vow, exterminating Gaul!
“And rose at liberty's parental call—
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“Rung round the isle, and arm'd th' united whole!”
France! we will guard our freedom, God our guide,
Long as our rocks repel th' invading tide—
None shall their banners o'er the shrine suspend,
While grateful nations round the altar bend,
Till deep repentance bow thy chasten'd mind,
And kindred feelings class thee with mankind.
Long as our rocks repel th' invading tide—
None shall their banners o'er the shrine suspend,
While grateful nations round the altar bend,
Till deep repentance bow thy chasten'd mind,
And kindred feelings class thee with mankind.
Meanwhile, O Albion! of thy foe beware:
Trust not their oath, till heav'n accepts their pray'r—
Have we not seen their harlot Goddess crown'd,
While frantic elders howl'd the shrine around?
Seen their pledg'd hand, to still their rav'nous host,
Unbar th' associate town, and ransom'd coast?
On fear's bow'd neck, their yoke of freedom chain,
Force states, self-rul'd, beneath a tyrant reign;
And cast proud Venice, that espous'd the wave,
At Austria's feet, a tributary slave—
Trust not their oath, till heav'n accepts their pray'r—
Have we not seen their harlot Goddess crown'd,
While frantic elders howl'd the shrine around?
Seen their pledg'd hand, to still their rav'nous host,
Unbar th' associate town, and ransom'd coast?
On fear's bow'd neck, their yoke of freedom chain,
Force states, self-rul'd, beneath a tyrant reign;
And cast proud Venice, that espous'd the wave,
At Austria's feet, a tributary slave—
Albion! if freedom here has fix'd her seat—
If exil'd virtue found a last retreat:—
If an arm'd nation, guardian of the throne,
Has in her monarch's cause maintain'd her own:
If law and liberty, with pow'rs combin'd,
Enlarg'd each virtue, and each vice confin'd:—
If pity view'd her altars rise around,
Where want, and wo, and pain, have refuge found;
Where cradled age in peace his eyelid clos'd,
And life's last blessing on his lip repos'd:
If sigh thy hamlets to the passing knell,
Or smiling peasants bless the sabbath bell:—
If Heav'n's pure light dispel the funeral gloom,
And point a place of rest beyond the tomb;
Where faith, with trembling hope, to God resign'd,
Hails in her judge the Saviour of Mankind:—
If exil'd virtue found a last retreat:—
If an arm'd nation, guardian of the throne,
Has in her monarch's cause maintain'd her own:
22
Enlarg'd each virtue, and each vice confin'd:—
If pity view'd her altars rise around,
Where want, and wo, and pain, have refuge found;
Where cradled age in peace his eyelid clos'd,
And life's last blessing on his lip repos'd:
If sigh thy hamlets to the passing knell,
Or smiling peasants bless the sabbath bell:—
If Heav'n's pure light dispel the funeral gloom,
And point a place of rest beyond the tomb;
Where faith, with trembling hope, to God resign'd,
Hails in her judge the Saviour of Mankind:—
By these, oh Albion! while disastrous fate,
And mad dissention shake each neighb'ring state;
Firm in thyself, on Heav'ns right arm rely,
And fearless fix thy anchor'd hope on high!
And mad dissention shake each neighb'ring state;
Firm in thyself, on Heav'ns right arm rely,
And fearless fix thy anchor'd hope on high!
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THE END.
| The battle of the Nile, a poem | |