 | The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes |  |
45
SEA-PIECE:
MDCCXXXIII.
CONTAINING I.—THE BRITISH SAILOR'S EXULTATION. II.—HIS PRAYER BEFORE ENGAGEMENT.
THE DEDICATION. TO MR. VOLTAIRE.
1
My Muse, a bird of passage, fliesFrom frozen climes to milder skies;
From chilling blasts she seeks thy cheering beam,
A beam of favour here denied:
Conscious of faults, her blushing pride
Hopes an asylum in so great a name.
2
To dive full deep in ancient days,The warrior's ardent deeds to raise,
And monarchs aggrandize,—the glory thine;
Thine is the drama, how renown'd!
Thine, epic's loftier trump to sound;—
But let Arion's sea-strung harp be mine:
3
But where's his dolphin? Know'st thou where?—May that be found in thee, Voltaire!
Save thou from harm my plunge into the wave.
How will thy name illustrious raise
My sinking song! Mere mortal lays,
So patronized, are rescued from the grave.
4
“Tell me,” say'st thou, “who courts my smile?What stranger stray'd from yonder isle?”—
No stranger, sir! though born in foreign climes.
46
With Sin and Death, provoked thy rage,
Thy rage provoked who soothed with gentle rhymes?
5
Who kindly couch'd thy Censure's eye,And gave thee clearly to descry
Sound Judgment giving law to Fancy strong?
Who half inclined thee to confess,—
Nor could thy modesty do less,—
That Milton's blindness lay not in his song?
6
But such debates long since are flown;For ever set the suns that shone
On airy pastimes, ere our brows were grey.
How shortly shall we both forget,
To thee, my patron, I my debt,
And thou to thine, for Prussia's golden key!
7
The present, in oblivion cast,Full soon shall sleep, as sleeps the past;
Full soon the wide distinction die between
The frowns and favours of the great,
High-flush'd Success and pale Defeat,
The Gallic gaiety and British spleen.
8
Ye wing'd, ye rapid moments, stay!—O friend! as deaf as rapid they;
Life's little drama done, the curtain falls!
Dost thou not hear it? I can hear,
Though nothing strikes the listening ear:
Time groans his last! ETERNAL loudly calls!
9
Nor calls in vain: the call inspiresFar other counsels and desires
Than once prevail'd; we stand on higher ground:
What scenes we see!—Exalted aim!
With ardours new our spirits flame;
Ambition bless'd, with more than laurels crown'd!
47
ODE THE FIRST. THE BRITISH SAILOR'S EXULTATION.
1
In lofty sounds let those delight,Who brave the foe, but fear the fight,
And, bold in word, of arms decline the stroke:
'Tis mean to boast, but great to lend
To foes the counsel of a friend,
And warn them of the vengeance they provoke.
2
From whence arise these loud alarms?Why gleams the south with brandish'd arms?
War, bathed in blood, from cursed Ambition springs:
Ambition mean! ignoble Pride!
Perhaps their ardours may subside,
When weigh'd the wonders Britain's sailor sings.
3
Hear, and revere.—At Britain's nod,From each enchanted grove and wood
Hastes the huge oak, or shadeless forest leaves;
The mountain pines assume new forms,
Spread canvass-wings, and fly through storms,
And ride o'er rocks, and dance on foaming waves.
4
She nods again: the labouring EarthDiscloses a tremendous birth;
In smoking rivers runs her molten ore;
Thence monsters, of enormous size
And hideous aspect, threatening rise,
Flame from the deck, from trembling bastions roar.
5
These ministers of Fate fulfil,On empires wide, an island's will,
When thrones unjust wake vengeance.—Know, ye powers!
In sudden night, and ponderous balls,
And floods of flame, the tempest falls,
When braved Britannia's awful senate lours.
6
In her grand council she surveys,In patriot picture, what may raise
Of insolent attempts a warm disdain;
48
Like darted lightning, swiftly down,
The wealth of Ind, and confidence of Spain.
7
Britannia sheaths her courage keen,And spares her nitrous magazine;
Her cannon slumber, till the proud aspire,
And leave all law below them; then they blaze!
They thunder from resounding seas,
Touch'd by their injured master's soul of fire.
8
Then Furies rise; the battle raves,And rends the skies, and warms the waves,
And calls a tempest from the peaceful deep,
In spite of Nature, spite of Jove;
While, all serene and hush'd, above,
Tumultuous winds in azure chambers sleep.
9
A thousand deaths the bursting bombHurls from her disembowell'd womb;
Chain'd glowing globes, in dread alliance join'd,
Red-wing'd by strong, sulphureous blasts,
Sweep, in black whirlwinds, men and masts,
And leave singed, naked, blood-drown'd decks behind.
10
Dwarf laurels rise in tented fields;The wreath immortal Ocean yields:
There War's whole sting is shot, whole fire is spent,
Whole glory blooms. How pale, how tame,
How lambent is Bellona's flame—
How her storms languish—on the continent!
11
From the dread front of ancient WarLess terror frown'd; her scythed car,
Her castled elephant, and battering beam,
Stoop to those engines which deny
Superior terrors to the sky,
And boast their clouds, their thunder, and their flame.
12
The flame, the thunder, and the cloud,The night by day, the sea of blood,
Hosts whirl'd in air, the yell of sinking throngs,
The graveless dead, an ocean warm'd,
A firmament by mortals storm'd,
To patient Britain's angry brow belongs.
13
Or do I dream? or do I rave?Or see I Vulcan's sooty cave,
Where Jove's red bolts the giant brothers frame?
49
Loud peals on mountain anvils beat,
And panting tempests rouse the roaring flame.
14
Ye sons of Ætna! hear my call;Unfinish'd let those baubles fall,
Yon shield of Mars, Minerva's helmet blue:
Your strokes suspend, ye brawny throng!
Charm'd by the magic of my song,
Drop the feign'd thunder, and attempt the true.
15
Begin: and, first, take rapid flight,Fierce flame, and clouds of thickest night,
And ghastly terror, paler than the dead;
Then, borrow from the North his roar;
Mix groans and deaths; one phial pour
Of wrong'd Britannia's wrath;—and it is made:
Gaul starts, and trembles, at your dreadful trade.
ODE THE SECOND: IN WHICH IS THE SAILOR'S PRAYER BEFORE ENGAGEMENT.
1
So form'd the bolt, ordain'd to breakGaul's haughty plan, and Bourbon shake;
If Britain's crimes support not Britain's foes,
And edge their swords; O Power Divine!
If bless'd by Thee the bold design;
Embattled hosts a single arm o'erthrows.
2
Ye warlike dead, who fell of oldIn Britain's cause, by Fame enroll'd
In deathless annal! deathless deeds inspire;
From oozy beds, for Britain's sake,
Awake, illustrious chiefs! awake
And kindle in your sons paternal fire.
3
The day commission'd from above,Our worth to weigh, our hearts to prove,
If war's full shock too feeble to sustain;
50
When vital streams of blood shall flow,
And turn to crimson the discolour'd main;
4
That day's arrived, that fatal hour!—“Hear us, O hear, Almighty Power!
Our Guide in counsel, and our strength in fight!
Now war's important die is thrown,
If left the day to man alone,
How blind is Wisdom, and how weak is Might?
5
“Let prostrate hearts, and awful fear,And deep remorse, and sighs sincere
For Britain's guilt, the wrath Divine appease;
A wrath more formidable far
Than angry Nature's wasteful war,
The whirl of tempests, and the roar of seas.
6
“From out the deep, to Thee we cry,To Thee, at nature's helm on high!
Steer Thou our conduct, dread Omnipotence!
To Thee for succour we resort;
Thy favour is our only port;
Our only rock of safety, Thy defence.
7
“O Thou, to whom the lions roar,And, not unheard. Thy boon implore!
Thy throne our bursts of cannon loud invoke:
Thou canst arrest the flying ball;
Or send it back, and bid it fall
On those from whose proud deck the thunder broke.
8
“Britain in vain extends her careTo climes remote for aids in war;
Still farther must it stretch, to crush the foe:
There's one alliance, one alone,
Can crown her arms, or fix her throne;
And that alliance is not found below.
9
“Ally Supreme! we turn to Thee:We learn obedience from the sea;
With seas and winds, henceforth, Thy laws fulfil.
'Tis Thine our blood to freeze or warm,
To rouse or hush the martial storm,
And turn the tide of conquest at Thy will.
51
10
“'Tis Thine to beam sublime renown,Or quench the glories of a crown;
'Tis Thine to doom, 'tis Thine from Death to free,
To turn aside his levell'd dart,
Or pluck it from the bleeding heart:—
There we cast anchor, we confide in Thee.
11
“Thou, who hast taught the North to roar,And streaming lights nocturnal pour,
Of frightful aspect! when proud foes invade,
Their blasted pride with dread to seize,
Bid Britain's flags as meteors blaze;
And George depute to thunder in Thy stead.
12
“The Right alone is bold and strong;Black hovering clouds appal the Wrong
With dread of vengeance. Nature's awful Sire!
Less than one moment shouldst Thou frown,
Where is puissance and renown?
Thrones tremble, empires sink, or worlds expire.
13
“Let George the Just chastise the vain.Thou, who dost curb the rebel Main,
To mount the shore when boiling billows rave!
Bid George repel a bolder tide,
The boundless swell of Gallic pride,
And check Ambition's overwhelming wave.
14
“And when (all milder means withstood)Ambition, tamed by loss of blood,
Regains her reason; then, on angels' wings,
Let Peace descend, and, shouting, greet
With peals of joy Britannia's fleet,
How richly freighted! It, triumphant, brings
The poise of kingdoms, and the fate of kings.”
| The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes | |