University of Virginia Library

LIBERTY.

A POEM.

Ye sacred Nine! all-pow'rful to inspire,
Each Bard, ambitious in Pursuit of Fame;
Vouchsafe for once to cast a chearful Look
On humble Lays; tho' no ignoble Theme.
Oh! wou'd the heavn'ly Muse but deign to smile,
And safe, thro' all the Windings intricate
Of wish'd for Knowledge, guide her humble Votary;
Wou'd She, propitious, hasten to convey
But half th' Ideas of a Milton's Mind;
What sooner shou'd adorn his gilded Pages,
Or what so soon incite Poetick-fire;
As LIBERTY? — so greatly idoliz'd.
For which a British Soul wou'd freely barter
The gaudy Pomp and Grandeur of a Court:
Nay more; wou'd boldly hazard even Life
On harshest Terms, and smile at Death itself;
Rather than basely wear a Gallic Chain.
Oh LIBERTY! transporting Liberty!
The very Name strikes deep into the Soul,
Imprints upon the Heart the lovliest Objects;
Raises Emotions in a Coward's Breast,
And bids the Mind aspire to nobler Deeds,
Than Human Energy can well effect.—
Let servile Gauls their grand Inslaver follow;
Each with regret will vindicate his Cause,
And shew their Bondage by th' ignoble Fight;
Whilst Britain's free-born Sons, true to their Prince
As Constellations to the Firmament,
Shall rush intrepid to the Field of Battle,
Resolv'd to die, or do their Country Justice.
Sooner shall Planets startle from their Spheres,
And groveling seek the heavy Mass of Earth;
Than we can learn, inglorious, to obey,
And shape our Actions by a Tyrant's Nod.
Each Stripling, like th' immortal Hannibal,
Shall swear himself a bitter Foe to France,
Fir'd with a Love for LIBERTY and Laws.
Hail Goddess! Guardian of our happy Isle,
Happy; whilst thou remains immoveable,
Nor leaves Britannia for another Clime.
The Hermit, settl'd in his small Domain,
Contemplates ev'ry Morning, Noon, and Night,
The little Fortune he can call his own.
Where Thou resides, e'en Poverty looks pleasing,
Smiles at its State, and thinks it far exceeds
The golden Fetters of the Slave-born Great.
Hence float in Numbers on the furrow'd Deep
Enormous Ships, and brave the angry Tide.
For fear of loosing Thee, each nimble Tar
Spurns the soft Pleasures of the Grot and Grove;
Leaves the thick shaded Bow'rs, for love-sick Swains,
And gay deck't Meads, for Flocks to graze upon.
To These prefers the horrid Din of Arms;
'Till Vengeance, taken on th' Incroacher's Head,
Calms his rough Soul, and bids Resentment cease.
Keen to pursue the glorious Task of Honour,
And disengage him of inglorious Ease;
With no less Joy he leaves the less'ning Shores,
Than wou'd a Mariner, who, tempted forth
By greedy Views, shipwreck'd; has lost his All:
And 'midst Despair, finds out some friendly Barge,
Safe to transport him to his Native Home,
And long expecting Parents.—
Dauntless he climbs the stately tow'ring Mast,
Nor fears the Rage of boist'rous ÆOLUS
Heaving the foaming Surges to the Skies:
Still, unappall'd, he overlooks the Deep,
Defies its Pow'r, and steers against the Wind;
Chearful and Gay, as if some happier Change
Were to compensate this his rugged Voyage;
Tho' well he knows, 'tis but a phantom'd Sketch,
Prelude of Scenes more terrible t'ensue.
Where, like succeeding Claps of frightful Thunder,
The loaded Cannon, equally pernicious,
Roars in the Bowels of the shatter'd Gallies.
Where Fire and Smoke thick-gath'ring dismal roll
In dusky Wreaths and cloud the livid Sky.
Nay 'twou'd require that Antient Poet's Pen;
(Who soaring high upon the Wings of Thought
Sung the vast Ruin of a once fam'd TROY,)
To paint the gloomy Horrors of the Deep,
When mighty Sovereigns assert their Right.
By Sea and Land what have not Brittons fac'd!
Bravely to die, or shun a harsher Fate?
When in his Father's and his Country's Cause,
Th' undaunted WILLIAM boldly sally'd forth,
And bid Defiance to the Pow'rs of France:
Illustrious Chief! my too-aspiring Muse
Shall ne'er impair the Greatness of the Deed:
But long as PHOEBUS with extended Rays,
Continues to illuminate the Globe,
And paler CYNTHIA, with her starry Train,
Shall gild with feebler Rays the peaceful Night;
From Age to Age the World shall tell the Tale,
And thy own Actions speak thy future Praise.
Heroes, as yet unborn, in future Days,
Shall in the faithful Records of Old-Time,
Read thy great Acts, and wonder as they read.

Description of a Battle