Metrical Effusions :: :: University of Virginia Library

“England, with all thy faults, I love thee still—
To shake thy senate, and from heights sublime
Oh patriot eloquence to flash down fire
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task:
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart
As any thunderer there.”
Cowper.

Genius of Britain! aid my song,
To thee the will and power belong
To prompt the Patriot's lay.
My country's love inspires my verse,
Oh! bid thy radiant beams disperse
The darkness of the day.

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Give me the worthy, generous aim,
From which ascends the towering flame
To sordid breasts unknown:
Give me to seek my country's weal,
And in my heart through life to feel
Her joys and griefs my own.

Ennobling principle! thy power
Can brave unmov'd the awful hour
Which claims our parting breath:
Thy cheering influence gilds the tomb,
When patriot virtue finds its doom
In honourable death.

By thee inspir'd in days of yore,
When Sparta many a laurel wore,
Leonidas arose;
Though Persia's hostile millions round,
Like locusts overspread the ground,
He fac'd his country's foes.

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With him a choice redoubted band
“Steady of heart, and stout of hand,”
The force of valour tried;
With joy to certain death they went,
And history marks the grand event,
Her records' greatest pride.

For thus the monumental stone
Hath made their glorious contest known
In freedom's sacred cause,
“Go, Passenger! at Sparta tell,
For her we fought, for her we fell,
Obedient to her laws.”

When mighty Rome's illustrious fame
Throughout the world had spread her name,
Came on a numerous host;
Whose deeds, by patriot virtue fir'd,
By each revolving age admir'd,
Remain their country's boast:

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Brutus, whose patriotic soul
Of other ties disdain'd control,
Condemn'd his sons to death;
Repress'd with scorn the rising tear,
And view'd with countenance severe
Their last expiring breath.

Cornelia's name, to virtue dear,
What country does not still revere?
Her sons the Gracchi too!
That chief who hail'd the midnight sprite,
And Cato, both the bard invite
To pay the tribute due.

Endless the task, from age to age
To trace throughout the historic page
Each brave illustrious feat;
How that Helvetian hero, Tell,
Felt his indignant bosom swell,
His heart tumultuous beat.

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Not limited to time or space,
Diffus'd throughout the human race
The Patriot's course we mark;
What land a hero does not own?
America claims Washington,
And France her Joan of Arc.

But chief, on Britain's sea-girt coast,
Mine eye discerns a countless host
Of heroes crown'd by fame;
Warriors to distant ages dear;
Statesmen, and bards, by turns appear
Of high illustrious name.

From Falkirk's bloody, fatal field,
Where haughty clans were forc'd to yield.
Shall Scotland's genius turn;
For Wallace' fate shall heave a sigh,
Then glance, with proud exulting eye;
On Bruce of Bannockburn!

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Britannia's rising pulse beats high
When Hampden, Russell, Sydney nigh
Her recollection brings;
O'er Marvel's, and o'er Chatham's bier
Often she drops the silent tear:
For Fox her hands she wrings.

Droop not, Britannia! there remain,
Among thy sons, a valiant train,
Who merit thy applause:
Remembering, though the days are fled,
How oft their fathers fought and bled
And perish'd in thy cause.

And never, never, 'till the waves,
Which thy unruffled bosom braves,
O'erwhelm thee, or forsake;
Shall Britons cease the solemn prayer,
That heaven thy chiefs would own its care,
And them thy bulwark make.