Poems on several occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

O stern Captivity! from Albion's land
Far, far, avert the terrors of thy rod!
O wave not o'er her fields thy flaming brand!
O crush not Freedom, fairest child of God!—
Bring not from thy Gallic shore
The galling fetters, groaning oar!
Bring not hither Virtue's bane,
Thy sister Superstition's train!

O spare from sanguine rites the silver floods!
Nor haunt with shapes obscene our unpolluted woods!—

Is yet too weak, rapacious Power, thy throne?
While the chain'd Continent thy vassal waits,
The Rhine, the Danube, and the sounding Rhone,
Proclaim thy triumphs through an hundred states.
See Valentia's smiling vales
Courted for thee by Ocean's gales!
Through yawning vaults on Tagus' streams,
Thine Revenge's dagger gleams:
Thy fury bursts on Rome's devoted head,
In vain the Scipios liv'd, the Decii, Cato bled!

Be these thy bounds—whose laws with monarchs reign,
To this fair isle how impotent thy hate!
Where Pitt, so righteous Heaven and George ordain,
In wisdom guides the thunder of the state.
That thunder shook on Afric's shore,
The howling Wild where Lions roar;
In western worlds its awful powers
Sunk astonish'd Bourbon's towers;
That thunder sounding o'er the Celtic main,
Roll'd to Lutetia's walls along the affrighted Seine.

Daughters of Albion! strew his paths with flowers,
O wake for him the lute's harmonious chord!
His name be echoed in your festal bowers,
Who guards Britannia from a foreign Lord!
Happy Fair, who seated far
From haughty conquerors, barbarous war,

Have heard alone in tragic songs
Of cities storm'd and virgins wrongs,
There felt the daughters, parents, consorts groan,
And wept historic woes, unpractis'd in your own!

Have you not heard how Sion's daughters mourn'd
Their prostrate land?—how Greece her victims tore
From flaming altars?—captive queens they turn'd
From Troy reluctant—on the sea-beat shore
Their eyes to Heaven were roll'd in vain,
Their eyes—for not the victor's chain
Indulg'd thy privilege, Despair!
Their hands to rend their flowing hair;
Behind them Troy a smoaking ruin lies,
Before lie unknown seas, and black incumbent skies.

“Ye gales!” they cry'd, “ye cruel eastern gales!
“Adverse to Troy, conspiring with the foe,

“That eager stretch the victor's swelling sails,
“To what unfriendly regions will ye blow?
“Shall we serve on Doric plains?
“Or where in Pithia Pyrrhus reigns?
“Shall Echo catch our captive tales?
“Joyless in the sprightly vales
“Apidanus thy beauteous current laves,
“Say, shall we sit and dream of Simois' fairer waves?

“Shall Delos, sacred Delos, hear our woes?
“Where when Latona's offspring sprung to birth,
“The palm spontaneous, and the laurel rose,
“O Dian, Dian, on thy hallow'd earth;
“With Delian maids, a spotless band,
“At Virtue's altar shall we stand
“And hail thy name with choral joy
“Invok'd in vain for falling Troy?

“Thy shafts victorious shall our songs proclaim,
“When not an arrow fled to spare thy votaries shame.

“To Athens, Art's fair empire, shall we rove?
“There for some haughty mistress ply the loom,
“With daring fancy paint avenging Jove,
“His forked lightnings flaming through the gloom,
“To blast the bold Titanian race:
“Or deaf to Nature, must we trace
“In mournful shades our hapless war?
“What art, dread Pallas, to thy car,
“Shall yoke th'immortal steeds? what colours tell
“By thine, by Pyrrhus' lance, how lofty Ilion fell?

“Yes, cruel Gods, our bleeding country falls,
“Her chiefs are slain—see brothers, sires expire!
“Ah see, exulting o'er her prostrate walls,
“The victor's fury, and devouring fire!

“Asia's haughty Genius broke,
“Bows the neck to Europe's yoke,
“Chains are all our portion now,
“No festal wreaths shall bind our brow,
“Nor Hymen's torches light the bridal day:
“O Death, and black Despair, behold your destin'd prey!”

The late Conspiracy against the Portuguese Government was planned amid the ruins of that unfortunate Capital.

Senegal.

Louisbourg.

An imitation of the first chorus in the Hecuba of Euripides.