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1805.
I.
Though I do love my country's weal,
As well as any soul that breathes;
Though more than filial pride I feel,
To see her crown'd with conqu'ring wreaths;
As well as any soul that breathes;
Though more than filial pride I feel,
To see her crown'd with conqu'ring wreaths;
Yet from my heart do I deplore
Her recent triumphs on the main,
Those laurels dripping red with gore,
That victory bought with Nelson slain.
Her recent triumphs on the main,
Those laurels dripping red with gore,
That victory bought with Nelson slain.
66
Oh! dearest conquest, heaviest loss,
That England's hope and heart have known
Since first, in fight, her blood-red cross
O'er the great deep triumphant shone.—
That England's hope and heart have known
Since first, in fight, her blood-red cross
O'er the great deep triumphant shone.—
And she should wail that conquest dear,
And she that heavy loss should mourn;
Hallow with sighs her Hero's bier,
And gem with tears her Hero's urn.
And she that heavy loss should mourn;
Hallow with sighs her Hero's bier,
And gem with tears her Hero's urn.
Shame on the wild and callous rout
That lights for joy its countless fires,
That hails the day with mad'ning shout,
While He, who won the day, expires!
That lights for joy its countless fires,
That hails the day with mad'ning shout,
While He, who won the day, expires!
67
It was, indeed, a glorious day,—
And every homage of the heart
Were just, that rescued realms can pay,
Had Nelson lived to share his part.
And every homage of the heart
Were just, that rescued realms can pay,
Had Nelson lived to share his part.
Had Nelson lived to hear our praise,
I too had hymn'd the victor's song;
I too had lit the joyous blaze,
And wildly join'd the exulting throng.
I too had hymn'd the victor's song;
I too had lit the joyous blaze,
And wildly join'd the exulting throng.
But He is blind to pageant gay,
And he is deaf to joyous strain;
And I will raise no pleasant lay,
And swell no pomp for Nelson slain.
And he is deaf to joyous strain;
And I will raise no pleasant lay,
And swell no pomp for Nelson slain.
68
But I will commune with my mind,
To celebrate its darling Chief
What worthiest tribute it may find
Of soften'd pride, of temper'd grief.
To celebrate its darling Chief
What worthiest tribute it may find
Of soften'd pride, of temper'd grief.
Ye good and great, 'tis yours to raise
The storied vase, the column tall,
To every future age to praise
His life, and consecrate his fall:
The storied vase, the column tall,
To every future age to praise
His life, and consecrate his fall:
Mine it will be, (oh! would my tongue
Were gifted with immortal verse!)
To strew, with many a sorrowing song,
Parnassian cypress o'er his hearse.
Were gifted with immortal verse!)
To strew, with many a sorrowing song,
Parnassian cypress o'er his hearse.
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