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 |
 | I. |
 | II. |
| 7. |
|
|
|
|
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
 | A Metrical History of England |  |
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.
| A Metrical History of England | |