University of Virginia Library

Thee I invoke not Goddess! Who with hair
In roses bound, amidst Aonian myrtle
At ease reclin'st, and as the languid harp
Breathes, sweetly wild, the soul-subduing strain,
Call'st the fond lovers to th'expressive dance.
But thee; who on the rugged frowning rock
Of Pindus sit'st, in mournful act of woe,
And sacred fury that inflames the breast:
With burning cheek, with copious locks that stray
In loose disorder, and neglected pride;
With wand'ring eyes, and arms outstretcht to heaven,
While from the narrow passage of thy lips,
Thou striv'st to pour in strong, harmonious verse,
The warm divinity that rules within.
Yes, thee I call, who with majestic sound
Of solemn trump, th'intrepid heroes praise
Delight'st to sing, heroes, who nobly shed
Their blood, to save their country, hither come,
And in my breast illume one glowing spark
Of the celestial flame, which liberty
Power most beneficent, most dear to man,
Bestows upon her sons, and which can raise
The humblest mortals to a rank divine.
For O! one ray from her, gives the free mind
Impulsive ardour of sublimest daring,
Or sweetest song to celebrate the brave.
Come Goddess! thou, who erst th'Italian plains
Did'st ofttimes love to visit, and admire
Prolific virtue there exulting reign:
Thou, who so oft with rapid pinion, flew
O'er the Tarpeian rock, and Latian hills,
To view the fetter'd kings, with front inclin'd,
The vanguish'd German sullenly dismay'd,
And the proud Parthian deck'd with barb'rous gold,
In long-drawn pomp pass thro' the streets of Rome.
While the swift Rhine, the Tigris, and Euphrates,
In mingled semblance tore their sedge-crown'd tresses,
And show'd a broken urn; then all around
Rose the gay Poean, and the loud applause,
As up the sacred hill the victor came
Triumphant, on his valiant brows were bound
The well-earn'd laurels, and his burnish'd car
Four gen'rous Coursers drew with foaming rage.
While o'er his head, thy lib'ral hand diffus'd
An od'rous cloud of Heliconian flowers.
O! from these plains, alas! how sadly changed;
If 'tis permitted, for an humble son
Of servile Italy, to claim thy favour;
And dare with lip unhallow'd, and weak breath,
To wake thy awful trumpet, hear me Goddess!
But if perchance, thine eye with proud disdain,
Should view these hills, and vales, if thou should'st scorn
A race degen'rate, yet O! do not fly me.
For ne'er will I profane the manly measure,
Which liberty, and valour may demand:
Then grant me inspiration, while I sing
Nat Italy's, but warlike Albion's son.

O thou illustrious Peer! around whose front
The verdant Olive twines it's peaceful wreath,
Whose hand unshaken bears the balance true
Of sacred Themis, midst Ibernia's rage;
Whose moderation calms her generous sons:
As, on the summit of his mountain drear
Sits Oeolus, and checks the frantic blast,
And bids the ruthless tempest cease to roar:
O deign with eye benignant to behold
This humble garland of Parnassian flowers,
Which for thy valiant Brother's tomb I weave.
And thou his lovely Consort! heavenly fair!
Whom Nature forming, copied every grace
From the enchanting Queen of smiles, and loves.
And heightened all by winning modesty.
Nor can the world astonish'd e'er decide
If more thy person, or thy mind excell.
O! should a pearly drop bedew thy cheek,
To view the laurels of th'heroic youth,
With Cypress mingled, and distain'd with gore;
Chase from thy radiant eyes the crystal woe,
His death demands our envy, not our tears.

O fruitful Parent of the noblest arts
And all the brightest virtues, England! still
The nurse of genuine heroes; on thy breast
Now, long unsettled Roman Liberty
Has placed the mighty fasces of her sway:
Her flowing mantle, and dishevell'd hair,
All readjusted show their wonted glory;
While at her side Astraea smiles serene.
Alas! dear Britain! thy untoward child
Contemns a gentle mother's soft controul;
In other climates, and on distant shores,
She now compells thee with unwilling force
To wound her bosom, yet incautious child!
Nor was the Empire so disdain'd severe.
Now too the din of arms, and rage of war,
Wake the brown native of the new-found world,
Nor spare the mild abode of placid Penn,
Who brought from busy Europe's coasts afar,
Industrious labour, and the golden mean,
To spread their influence o'er a peaceful land.
O hapless Mother! Child ingrate! depose
The sacrilegious brand; for sim'lar laws,
And self-same Origin, should surely give
A fond affection, and bid wrath subside.
Nor be it true that your contracted hearts
Excite to fierce alarms of bloody Mars;
For O! no triumph crowns a civil war;
But in a kindred contest, grief awaits
Alike the vanquish'd, and the conqueror.
Rome thus of old, dejectedly beheld
The mighty victor of stern Mithridates
With ancient and with arid laurels crown'd
Advancing here, while there the lord of Gaul,
Proud of new trophies, scorn'd th'indignant bound
Of the dread Rubicon; she saw that son,
Her pride, and terrour, wage abhorred war,
While her own eagled ensigns, and the Pilum
Contending mingled in the fields of death.
Then Latian liberty, her visage hid
In mantle dark, as conscious of her fall.
And the dire shade of barb'rous Hannibal
With eye remorseless gazed on mighty Rome
And felf the rage of Envy; as he stood
On Lethe's borders; suddenly he smiled,
Then sought th'expecting souls of future years,
Who drank th'oblivious stream, who wished in vain
With wild impatience still to hasten on
The tardy progress of succeeding ages.
Fierce Alaric was there, and many a Hero
Of humbler fame, whom destiny had promised
To the rude Gothic, or the Scythian tribes.
He points to these where rise the Roman hills,
And shows them Tyber's shores, then gives to each
A fatal torch, by stern Alecto lighted
In the red stream of flaming Phlegeton.

Whilst thus I vainly speak, the awful gates
Of Ianus open wide, and with dire sound,
Upon their rugged hinges grating turn.
Hark! how tumultuous discord roars within!
What bitter plaints of unavailing woe!
What various tongues! that midst corroding flames
Send furious forth the accents of despair.
While from a thousand murmurs indistinct,
Is formed one louder murmur, more confused.
So on the black Horizon's distant bound
Majestic thunder rolls the mutt'ring peal,
The Din encreases, high and boastful neighings
Answer the brazen trumpet's warlike song.
And from the portal stern Bellona comes,
Her iron Chariot drawn by sable steeds,
With flaming eye-balls, and with ruffled manes.
Impatient of controul, they onward rush,
To quit the dreary scene, and dark abode.
The shouting Goddess lifts her fatal lance
In act to strike, and o'er her burnish'd helm
Fierce stygian snakes rise tow'ring like a Plume;
That hiss with forked tongues, and venom'd rage.
Before the Car, pale terrour madly runs
With hair uplifted, and enanguish'd look,
Till in his flight a giant's form he wears.
There follow too, grim horrour, pensive grief,
Relentless cruelty, her heart of stone,
Eye-sunken famine, and to fill the band,
With ling'ring step sad solitude behind.
Tartarean smoke involves the bounding wheels,
Whose rapid course emits a blood-like flame,
As the keen furnace pours the fiery steel.
Where'er the Goddess throws her frantic glance,
A Comet seems to blaze, and her broad shield,
Like day's red Orb when sinking in the west,
Glows with dim lustre thro'a vap'rous veil.
The Chariot glimm'ring from the livid light,
Alecto drives, and o'er th'indignant steeds,
With Hell's own fury shakes a scorpion scourge.

Loud in her course enraged Bellona cries,
To arms, to arms, and hurls her thirsty spear,
To arms, to arms, hills, woods, and vales resound.
Meantime the sun his golden tresses hides
In dusky mantle, earth's dry bosom quakes,
All Nature sickens, and each mother strains
Fond, to her throbbing heart the tim'rous babe.
The thirsty spear that cleaves the liquid air,
And marks it's course with train of lucid fire;
(As streams the glitt'ring meteor of the night)
Deep in th'e vast Atlantic sinks at last.
Sudden the waves, then hush'd in calm repose,
Dash angry round, and curl their foam to heaven,
While winds swift bursting from Aeolian caves,
Midst the grim hurricane, and the vengeful storm,
Bear the enraged Bellona's fiery car.

Now the embattled sons of Thames, and Seine,
Rush hasty forward to the conflict dire;
As eager coursers starting for the prize,
When the strill trumpet gives the sprightly sound,
With manes wide waving, and with foamy rage,
Dart o'er the plain, while to their rattl'ing hoofs,
The firm soil sounds, and rolling clouds arise.
So the contending rivals for fair fame,
Induce their course, they guide their floating towers
O'er the rough waves, and spread the whit'ning sails,
While Death prepares the yawning throats of war.

But O! for whom of all the gen'rous tribe
That left thy coast, where liberty resides,
Proud Albion! say? for whom I first shall weave
Th'Aonian garland, since so many strove
To save thine honour, and defend thy rights?
Intrepid Manners, Granby's gallant son,
In life's gay prime now sought the bloody scene,
And breathed defiance to the raging Mars.
Stern on his vessel's dauntless prow he stood,
While o'er his cheek warm glow'd the pride of youth,
Refulgent hue of Nature's early bloom.
Tho on his lip but scarce the down appear'd,
Yet manly sense, and vigour, fired his breast;
Honour he most adored, and his bold heart
Alike disdain'd pale fear, or paler death.
Virtue, in graceful form, enchants the more.
Valiant, and great, He lavish'd not his time
In flow'ry pleasures, nor in wanton joy;
But midst the thunder of rude battle came,
E'en like a God, and there sedately brave,
Gazed on the perils of destructive war.
Now, from the Gallic shores, a gath'ring storm
Of vengeance threatens; Albion's chalky cliffs
Send forth an uproar wild, with equal rage.
The roaring billows, that divide the land,
Witness th'approaching tumult, while the ships
With awful presage seem to practise war,
And doubtful conquest waits the em'lous sight.
So two fierce bulls, by jealous fury driven,
Ere yet in close attack their foreheads join,
Pause with slow pace, and meditate destruction;
Indignant roll their eyes, they beat the ground,
And whet their pointed horns or ev'ry tree;
Rend the thin air, and bellow proud defiance,
While list'ning Echo answers to the sound.
'Twas now th'impatient Warriour first display'd
Sublimest courage in his country's cause;
And proved that valour can excite the young,
Nor needs the aid of lazy pacing time.

Loud yells the voice of war, and discord doubles;
Imperious Spain, with shame, and anger, views
Th'insulting height of Calpe, once her own,
By nature fortified with rocks, and waves.
Here then she points her long-contending force,
While, on the summit placed, the warlike tribe
Mark her mad fury spend itself in vain;
So tall Olympus sees the light'nings flash,
And hears the midway thunder roar beneath,
Thro the dull bosom of encircling clouds:
But raging Famine, with her visage wan,
Anguish unspeakable, and silent step,
Scowls like a fiend upon th'imprison'd Heroes,
And binds her chain around; she thus impedes
All entrance to the ports, and waits her triumph:
Meantime th'encircled band with eager eyes
Gaze on the wat'ry plain, and wish to see
From Britain's isle the succ'ring ships arrive.
But O! what sounds now rush upon mine ear!
The noise of battle hurtles in the air;
Hoarse cannons pierce the smoky clouds of war;
And rent sails, mingl'ing with the shatter'd masts,
In wild disorder float upon the deep.
Here all serene th'aspiring Hero came,
His lib'ral heart, with martial ardour fired,
Scoff'd at grim danger, and opposing death.
Again the entrance free, the adverse fleet
Secure their safety by inglorious flight;
While yielded vessels prove Iberia's shame.
At length, the smoky gloom of Mars dispell'd,
Upon his formidable deck appears
The living bulwark of Britannia's fame,
Around whose brow the antient laurel seems,
E'en now, to send a greener lustre forth.
'Tis Rodney; lo! upon his martial front,
Amid his serious gaze, and frown severe,
Is mark'd th'intrepid sterness of his soul,
Exalted valour, settled judgment too.
He turns his eyes upon the warlike youth,
As the grim Lion when the battle's o'er,
With the Numidian hunters, far dispersed,
Or torn in pieces; views his dauntless young,
Unmaned as yet, who full of boldness came,
All unexpected to th'unequal fight:
Pleased he beholds him tear some tremb'ling limbs
With early tooth, and drink the flowing blood.
So look'd the glorious chief, and in reward
Promoted to a flag the valiant youth.
The floating fortress proudly cuts the tide,
And joyful waves it's honours from the mast,
And now to him, as to a vet'rans care,
The doutle row of brazen guns is given.
Lo! where the conq'ring vessels bend their course,
Midst their new trophies, to the friendly port
No longer shut, while, on the jocund shore,
Is heard the loud salute of murm'ring joy,
That echoes round midst roaring winds, and waves,
While the triumphant voice of hollow cannon
Joins with the clam'rous seamen's wild applause:
Here, where the haughty ocean dashing fierce
Against the rock invincible, appears
To scorn the narrow pass, and proudly beats
Europe and Lybia, with indignant force,
Sudden the curling waters rage, and swell,
And break in foamy volumes; wide they ope
A horrid chasm, from whence uprising slow,
In dread, sublime, and hoary majesty,
The guardian Genius of the straits is seen;
Genius, whom nature wise, and provident,
Here placed to check the hardy enterprize
Of daring mortals, to whom pow'r was given
Over the whirlwind's speed, and howling storm.
Him great Alcides reverenc'd, but Ulysses,
Who scorning dared to tempt the unknown sea,
Was overwhelm'd beneath the frothy surge.
At length the bold aspiring Lusitanian,
And the Ligurian Tiphis, mock'd his ire,
So fatal once, and all his power disdain'd:
Since then, his empire o'er, dethron'd, and sad,
The gloomy Monarch, in his cave obscure,
Neglected, and inglorious, passed his day.
Now, at the shout of joyful victory,
From his long lethargy he rises slow
As in a vessel towers the haughty mast;
So from the Ocean's dreary depth he comes,
And while he wades amid the briny flood,
The white wave throws it's curling fury round.
As tho the raging south-wind drove the storm.
His front sustain'd an ample diadem,
Where richest shells, and branching coral shone;
A sedgy beard fell verdant on his breast,
Besmear'd with mud, and there in drops distill'd;
He bore the sacred trident of his reign
That seem'd a triple mast, the sun's bright beam
Play'd on his humid locks, and glitt'ring crown,
While chrystal drops the many-colour'd rays
Resplendent broke, and like a circling Iris
Enwrap'd his head with noblest majesty.
Th'astonish'd warriours struck with horrour, raise
Their valiant fronts, when now the Deity,
Like hollow thunder bursting from the clouds,
In slow, and awful murmurs thus began.
“O sons of Albion! happiest offspring dear
“Of sacred liberty, that knows t'inspire
“Sublimest thoughts, and glorious enterprize;
“Of sacred liberty, whose lessons teach
“Greatly to live, and more, to greatly die:
“O sons of Albion! ye have Roman souls,
“And well deserve a God should thus address you.
“Illustrious Heroes! go where honour calls,
“Far from your grateful Country's fertile plains,
“To dare old Ocean, and the Lord of war.
“Your val'rous deeds, and destiny renown'd,
“Within the pregnant Urn of fate I see;
“At your approach, the Gallic lily shows
“A bloodlike tint, and droops her sorrowing head;
“Amid the waves, with palpitations dire
“Float the half-living limbs, and the far shores
“Of the Atlantic, where the Orb of light
“Throws his declining ray is tinged with red.
“Rodney invincible! to thee 'tis given,
“Again to fix on Neptune's tott'ring throne,
“Your injured country, and to make her reign,
“Unrival'd Empress of the watry world.
“Go then brave leader, where new wreaths await thee,
“Fair wreaths, collected from that well-known tree,
“Which grew of old on yellow Tyber's shore,
“And whose green leaves for ages ne'er shall fade.
“For thou art great, and hadst been greater too,
“But that the jaundic'd eye of envy scowls
“To tarnish all thy fame, O then despise
“Each mean, and jealous murmur, but bestow
“In conscious virtue safe, a passing smile.
“And thou too, noblest youth! whose bosom feels
“Th'impatient glow of valour, and of fame,
“Nor yet mature in age, where battle calls,
“Canst emulate thy martial Ancestors:
“O! where it possible to break the laws,
“The adamantine laws of ruthless fate,
“Amazed futurity had seen thee rise
“Thy country's bulwark, and her foe's despair,
“For never yet has fruitful England borne
“So fair a hope, nor youth so justly dear;
“By destiny a moment shewn, and lost.
“But you must scorn my weak, and quer'lous lay,
“List to the louder song of shouting fame,
“Behold before you on her purple wing,
“Flies blooming Vict'ry and points the way,
“Go where she waits you now, and shows the palm.
“He spoke, and sudden beat the azure stood
“With outstrecht arms, then with his front inclin'd,
“And curving back, plung'd to his deep abode.
The troubled waters dash their foam on high,
And then serene in dimpling eddies close.
Meantime the promised trophies rouse them all
To new exploits, and valour fires their souls.
But thou brave youth! alas! whom fate's dark hand
Has rudely mark'd, (so thy short day shall prove)
Say what dost thou? too sure thy dauntless heart
Disdains to tremble at the cruel menace:
Thou seek'st for glory, best reward of minds
Gen'rous like thine, last weakness of the wise,
Compared to which, how poor this little life!
Thro' Glory man forgets his mortal doom,
And thinks of coming death without a fear.
For tis the road that leads his footsteps on,
To the bright fane of immortality.
But they who shake whene'er the grisly king
Threatens with ebon rod, and angry gaze;
Constrain'd by icy fear, in life's short hour,
Must die a thousand times a living death.

Now Calpe vanish'd, the victorious prows
Haste to new dangers, and fresh enterprize.
O tuneful Daughters of almighty love!
Say, who was he, that saw the lily first
High trembling in the air, to droop, and die,
By warlike thunders guarded but in vain?
Thou, Thou wast he, unconquerable youth!
Thy country mark'd thee from her distant strand;
And the loud Chorus of sublime applause,
Was heard on Albion's cliffs, and tow'ring hills.
The haughty vessel cleaves the azure breast
Of placid Neptune, whose rough waves subside,
And gentle Zephyr shakes his wanton wings
Midst the victorious ensigns with delight,
The air was calm, and on the level deep
Fair Amphitritè sported, for she came
With Galatea from her pearly grot,
And thousand Nereids green, with dropping hair,
And eyes of glossy blue that sweetly shine;
Reposed on painted shells they gaily skim
In many a mazy course the liquid plain:
So glides the Northern peasant o'er the ice:
On the brave youth they gaze, who pensive sits
Upon his rising deck, and fain would haste
His ship's too tardy progress: some admire
His golden tresses, some his glowing cheek,
Or eyes that sparkle with heroic flame,
And knowing well that stygian night is near,
To wrap him in the universal shade,
In many a lucid tear their pity flows.
And the same grief again they feel, that erst
On the sad son of Thetis they bestow'd,
When, having left his female robes, he sail'd
With daring vessel o'er th'Egeean deep,
And bore his own fate, and the fate of Troy.

Now where stern Mars bids liercer thunders roar
Around America's extending coast,
For Battle eager, and for conquest keen,
With bulging sail the British fleet appears.
Ah! who shall tell of all thy glorious deeds
Illustrious youth? still where Bellona raised
Her sable standard on the rolling wave,
Thou bravely cam'st to dare a thousand deaths.
By that all-sacred light which Phœbus gives
His favour'd Bards, I view thee sternly stand,
Where leaden fate in hissing shower descends;
And as the winged dangers sweep around,
Thou art unshaken, but I shrink with fear.
Behold the enemy come pouring on,
Like a swoln torrent numerous, and proud;
The countless ensigns form a circ'ling range,
And high the golden lily waves in air.
While they surrounding press the British fleet,
By adverse winds divided, and dispersed;
As members from the body torn, no more
Obey their head, e'en so Britannia's sons,
Their Adm'ral's signals now no more observe.
But wild confusion, dull night's offspring drear,
With doubtful veil involves their useless sight.
Ah! who shall gain the seperated fleet,
To bear the leader's orders? for the foe
Arm'd with swift terrour, and impending death,
Have placed their brazen thunder's rage between.
As Jove's eternal Eagle thro' the sky
Sails with supreme dominion, nor regards
The num'rous croakings of surrounding birds:
So ardent Manners—yes 'twas he, that came
Safe midst the crimson slaughter, and a grove
Of threat'ning Masts. Th'astonish'd Enemy
Doubt what they see, while he pursues his course,
And joins his friends, a heavenly messenger.
Soon as approach'd, the wild disorder's o'er,
So from a sudden ray grim darkness flies.

Now Albion's Genius lifts his front severe,
Indignant fire wide flashing from his eyes,
And shouts to vengeance, and excites to blood,
Urges his daring sons to keener fight,
Points the proud lilies not as yet subdued,
And at the sight, shouts more to blood, and death;
While back the squadron echoes blood, and death.
With gloomy frown the low'ring day comes on,
And the sad hours, adjust with tardy care,
The golden reins to guide the flaming car.
Titans lov'd consort turns her melting eyes
Far from th'Atlantic, and th'approaching war.
While on her alter'd cheek the rose is pale.
O rising Sun! who see'st th'immense expanse
Of varied lands, and Ocean's ruffled bed,
Behold in horrid pomp, and eager pride
Th'opposing fleets mutual defiance breathe,
As on the wings of winds they ride the deep.
O fulgent Sun! ere thy declining ray
Shall leave this sad Horison's distant bound,
How changed shall be the present scene, alas!
What numbers of the brave, and valiant tribe,
That hail thee now from many a burnish'd deck,
And all-impatient wish to haste thy speed,
Shall never see thee reach yon western wave,
Shall never more salute thy rising beam.
How great and how sublime! to view afar
The floating navies cut the briny tide,
That seem two ancient forests dark'ning there.
As when on land the gather'd soldiers hear
Their Captain's word, they carefully obey,
Anon they open, and again they close,
Now form the column, or compleat the square,
As tho'one mind alone inform'd the whole.
E'en so the tow'ring ships, with agile course,
And ready motion bend a thousand ways,
With one accord, in swift variety.
Lords of the wind, that raging, yet obeys,
And fills their bosom'd sails, behold they form
The long-drawn lines, which near, and nearer come.
While unfurl'd ensigns streaming in the gale,
And cannon's brazen voice provoke the fight.
So oft when summer burns the sallow plain,
The rising South-wind meets th'opposing North,
In conflict fierce, and in aerial space
The angry Heavens roll forth their sable clouds
That crash together, forked lightnings dart
Their momentary rage, repeated still,
While awful thunder rolls the peal around,
And the sharp hail descends with ruinous force.
Scared at the storm, the shepherd drives his flock
To some near covert, and with sorr'wing eye
With visage pale, and bosom heaving deep,
Views his rich harvests, and his ripening vines.
Hark to the thunder of the God of war!
See how the smoky volumes curl on high,
Which lightnings darted forth from hollow guns
Can scarcely pierce, yonder the English chief,
With threat'ning eye, and dauntless front appears:
Observe on him is fix'd the gen'ral gaze,
While from his lips roll forth the accents dire,
Presaging wide destruction, and despair.
Lo silent Destiny attentive smiles,
And the dark sisters ope the fatal shears.
At his command, which the swift air repeats,
With many a streaming flag, the warriors rush
Fierce, and impatient, on the daring foe
In closer combat; so the sweeping winds
Burst from the cavern'd rocks, and mountains drear,
Forced by the sable monarch's stern decree.
And now th'immortal leader, wise, and brave,
Commands, and gives th'example, those obey
The best, who follow where his valour leads,
Still foremost where severest dangers rise.
In vain the Gallic Admiral directs
His boyant fortress to oppose the rage,
And pours his num'rous vessel's thunder forth;
The warlike Briton breaks the baffled line,
That all dispersed in hasty tumult flies.
So the wild wirlwind tears the tender trees,
When on thick clouds the winged horrour sails.
Now the fight rages, and amidst the scene,
His own dire Empire, stalks triumphant death;
And with impartial scythe, alike destroys
Th'illustrious Heroes, and the vulgar brave.
First the most valiant fall, and still they come
A quick succession, all in turn to die.
They seem to haste to triumph, not to fate,
Fame flies before them, and in one hand bears
Her sacred trump, that from the silent tomb
Can call the warriors to eternal life;
The other hand a burnish'd Mirrour shows,
Wherein the brave who cast an ardent eye,
Are blind to each encreasing danger round;
Horrour, and savage rage, and bitter groans.
The mighty vessels dash their vengeful sides
Against each other like opposing tow'rs,
While rapid globes a fiery passage force.
Rent are the useless sails, and many a mast,
High peopled with a pendant crowd, the shock
Brings headlong down, and on the purple floor,
With shatter'd limbs imprints the stamp of death.
The broken splinters send a dreadful sound
Midst the torn members, in the deep of air,
As thro' the smoke they mark a course of blood.
Now crimson rivers wash the sable sides
Of the proud ships, while round the foamy waves
Distain'd with gore, involve the quiv'ring dead.
O scene of Horrour! here are heard the cries
Of suppliant pity, here are dying groans,
There are loud shouts of Vict'ry, and Despair,
Mingled with brazen thunder, the mad winds
Howl terrible, and labouring Ocean roars.
Confusion wild, and Harmony severe.
O tumult dire! Bellona's fatal voice,
The voice of Mars, now makes the timid shrink
With gelid fear, but spurs the valiant on.
As when th'electric' globe in rapid round
Is turn'd, a flame mysterious sparkles forth,
And fills th'approaching limbs with wond'rous fire,
So the young Hero's gen'rous soul grows hot
While horrour thickens, rage inflames his cheek,
And patriot valour flashes from his eye.
Now too, inspired beyond himself, he finds
Where'er he goes a dearth of living fame,
Except where direst dangers threaten round.
He steers his daring vessel midst the foe,
While warlike lightnings pierce it's riven sides,
Like sharp hail patt'ring on the rustic roof.
Onward he moves thro' many a lane of death,
While the torn lily bleeding, at the view
Droops her sad head, or all in terrour flies.

Now Albion's long-lost heroes, from the shades
Of fair Elysium, seek the martial scene.
And first in royal robes, that proudly flow'd
O'er the fierce falchion, and the coat of mail,
Great Alfred came, father, and bulwark too
Of ancient Britain, for his care of old
Broke the tirannic Dane's imperious yoke,
And there the sable Warrior, mighty Prince!
Who march'd triumphant o'er subjected France,
Came haughty forth, while the majestic shade
Of the once captive King his course attends.
And He was there who gave the British flag
Proud empire o'er the sea, and humbled low
The stern Batavian, of new freedom vain;
A faithful servant to a tyrant lord.
And He, who routed oft the squadron'd foe
Where the swift Rhine, or Danube rolls the wave.
And shook on Gallic front th'Iberian crown.
A hundred other warlike shades were there,
Their locks with never-fading laurels bound,
And as they sail with outstrech'd wings, excite
Courage, and vigour, in the Britis'h hearts.
Full well they know their not degen'rate sons,
Full well their valour know, and from on high
Pour forth th'harmonious notes of loud applause,
With more than mortal voice, while fame repeats
The solemn sound with thrilling trump a far.
Sound, never heard as yet by ear profane,
But granted only by indulgent Heaven,
To warm the Hero's, and the Poet's breast.
But thou brave Leader! who amidst the crowd
Of Warriors so renown'd, distinguish'd stand'st.
And show'st thy well-earn'd trophies, say what grief
Hangs on thy solemn brow, why is that cheek
Bedew'd with falling tears? alas! pale death
O'er thy descendant broods with dark'ning wing.
Avert the coming stroke ye heavenly powers!
And save the youth for Virtue and his friends,
Nor let him perish by untimely stroke.
But vain are vows, and supplication vain,
To change the adamantine laws of fate;
For now O dreadful moment! thro' the air
The iron messenger of wrath, and woe,
Comes with relentless force, and rends the side
Of the ill-fated youth, with mortal wound.
With steady eye he views the gushing blood,
And only valour now sustains his frame.
Nor does he mourn, but that his valiant sword
Can never more defend his country's cause.
While his dim eye, in sorrow seems t'accuse
His body, sinking from his vig'rous mind.
Ye his bold Comrades stop the crimson tide!
Nor let his gen'rous soul escape to heaven!
But oh how glorious is his dying hour!
Yet hov'ring spirit one short moment pause!
To feel the transport to proud triumph due.
And mark the vengeance of terrific Mars,
What num'rous victims wait thy parting shade;
With raptur'd eye gaze on the splendid scene,
While low the Gallic lilies droop around,
And mid the fallen standards, horrour frowns.
Now midst the battle, some their safety find
On wings of rapid winds, and some in vain
Seek to escape; The chief invincible,
First to oppose the foe, the long-drawn fleet
With vigour forces, breaks their order fair,
And with him brings unnumber'd vengeful sails.
E'en so full oft, a lum'nous train of fire
Consumes with spreading noise the yellow corn.
But now in dreadful bend his line proceeds,
And quick surrounds the wond'ring enemy,
And the proud ships, by destiny decreed
To be the prize, the triumph of his pow'r.
Now blind confusion flies with erring wing
Midst the restricted vessels, and alike
Baffles the valiant, and confounds the base,
While thro' the bloody scene, and smoky clouds,
No order reigns, none bear their chiefs controul,
But friends with friends, in blindest rage contend.
Left to the mercy of th'indignant waves,
Against each other dash the careless prows,
And masts encounter masts, as shatter'd trees
Of some old forest, when the hurricane
Comes on with ruthless force; in conflict dire
Torn branches mingle, and opposing trunks
With horrid tumult sweep the plains of air.
The val'rous Gauls e'en still resist, but soon
As e'er thy leading flag, O sad De-Grasse!
Broken, and bloody, sinks it's humbled head,
Their courage sickens, and their force is o'er.
But O for you, brave warriors who escaped
His shameful fate, the tuneful muse shall tell,
That you prefer'd your glory to your life.
Yet still your Country shall all-grateful shed
Upon your tomb the od'rous pride of spring,
And as of old, on fair Eurota's banks,
The Gallic Mothers with delight prefer
Your glorious death, to safety unrenown'd.
His desp'rate vessel moves amidst the rage
Of fierce surrounding fate, as some wild bear
By hunters wounded, while the thirsty darts
Drink his hot blood, with fury opes his jaws,
And springs with rapid force upon the foe.
E'en so the ship, tho' shatter'd in the fight
Itself defends, tho' masts, and sails, are gone,
Yet still in yielding it appears to strive
To merit honour, and be lost with glory.
But iron balls from brazen cannon sent,
Force frequent openings in it's wounded sides,
And with terrific roar the whelming flood
Rushes impetuous in, while low the prow
Stoops in the bosom of the yawning deep,
Then in the fearful moment, the pale crowd
Lift up imploring hands, and eyes, to heaven,
In tender close embrace, each clings to each,
And so they sink, for ever, ever lost,
While smiling eddies dimple on the main.

The valiant lily disappears around,
And Britain's shouting sons, amid the scene
Of groans, and death, the air loud-echoing rend.
In vain the carnage ceases, vainly night
With veil obscure comes on to hide the view
Of slaughter, and destruction, and confounds
Alike the conquer'd, and the conquerors.
Husht is the voice of war, but husht in vain,
For midst the silent hour, a dreadful sound,
Is heard to rise, of desolate despair:
While a fierce blaze of light darts from the side
Of one late captur'd ship, with horrid rage.
In spiry volumes mount the vengeful flames,
And darkness flies, while the surrounding clouds
Are streak'd with crimson glow, and from the waves
Now brightly blue, the sable night is fled,
While on the surge reflected fires are seen.
Thro' the thick gloom pierc'd by the trembling light,
Behold the British fleet, while mid the masts,
And shatter'd prows, appear in wild amaze
A thousand faces tinged with flaming red.
By the strong wind excited, the swift fire
Consumes the sails, and cords, with ardent rage,
While the masts tumble from their airy height.
O wretched Warriors! little now avails,
T'have purchased life by base captivity,
Since death insatiate claims you for his own,
Sad victims! who had hoped t'escape his pow'r!
Now from the furious blaze, a mingled cry
Is heard of deep despair; mid the wild roar
Of quick-devouring flames, that soon descend
To the blue bosom of th'affrighted deep.
At length the burning fury penetrates
Where the dark powder all collected lies;
The cannons vigour, and the nerve of war.
Soon as a spark here enter'd, thro' the air
With dire explosion, and the light'nings speed,
The smoky ruin rushes to the sky,
And scatters many a blazing fragment round,
Tinging the night obscure with lucid glow.
E'en so is seen from Adrian's lofty fane
On festal day the fiery shower descend,
And gild the structures near, and brightly shine
In yellow Tyber's wave, midst clam'rous shouts.

Dun Night retires, and bright Aurora comes
In silver car, with reins of roseate hue
She guides her eager coursers, nature feels
Her lov'd approach, while the clear ray displays
Horrid disasters, and the bloody scene
Of Mars, who triumph'd the preceding day.
Now the blind rage of conquest, valour too
Subside in pensive transitory calm;
And the proud victors see what streams of blood
Were pour'd, ere they obtain'd the palm renown'd.
Ye honour'd shades! who still perhaps delight
To haunt lov'd Albion's shores, and are content
Thus to have died, for sweet is death like yours.
Say shall your Country thinking on your fate,
Refuse to sadly shed the heart-felt tear?
Ah yes! for she beholds you, and restrains
The liquid grief, while wonder most profound,
And awful rev'rence all her thoughts subdue.
Her stedfast eye upon your gaping wounds
In sorrow fixes, wounds, that valour prove;
Then asks from Heaven for other sons like you.
But who can think of your too transient life
Nor heave one struggling sigh for Britain's loss.
What boots it you that captive colours wave,
And laurels flourish which your blood obtain'd,
What boots it you that Vict'ry shouts aloud,
And soaring fame her trump wide-echoing sounds,
Since low alas! your valiant limbs are laid!
Pale is that face where late the flame of war
Mix'd it's bright lustre with benignant looks.
From fatal bow the ruthless dart of death
Sprung rapidly, while Manners void of fear
Th'approaching moment saw, and all resign'd
Met his sad fate, with firmness, only known
To gen'rous Virtue, and her most-loved sons.
Careless he view'd his wounds, and thought the while
How sweet it was to die in Britain's cause.
Then the last frost seized on his clay-cold corse,
And wrapt the Hero in oblivious rest;
So the soft Infant calmly sinks to sleep.
But cease O Muse! th'unwarlike harp to sound
With plaintive notes, that but displease his shade.
O say unconquer'd souls! who long have dwelt
Beneath the sunshine of fair liberty,
And who deserve the ray, say can you see
Unenvied his proud fate, nor yet desire
In the same glorious track to shed your blood.
Who would not rather share the early fate
Of this brave youth, than live thro Nestor's years,
Unnoticed, unesteem'd, in useless ease.
O senseless Mortals! who with fearful eye
Gaze on the melancholy spectre, Death,
But spectre vain; which sadly cheats our sight
As the false shade some roving beast alarms:
Know that wise Nature spreads a horrid veil,
And thickest darkness o'er the end of life,
Lest by desertion we should fly our woes.
And had she not on life's dread bound'ry placed
An awful gulph, in mists obscurely hid,
To check the wretch's leap from human cares;
None, none would bear the deeply-rending pains
Of fell disease, or sad declining age,
Love's wildest pangs, or Jealousy's despair,
“The insolence of Office, or the spurns
That patient merit from th'unworthy takes,”
The treach'rous Friend, and bloody tyrant's rage.
O Death by cowards dreaded, by the brave
Desired, dear moment that subdues our woes!
Thou'rt grateful to the valiant, and the wise,
The meed of all their actions, and the crown.
For He who sails on life's tempestuous Sea,
Can ne'er be certain of unalter'd glory.
Hail sacred moment when recording fame
Stamps on her awful page th'eternal seal.
I view her hover o'er the val'rous youth,
With dark, but gentle pinion, so full oft
Mild breezes, when the troub'lous war is o'er
Twixt the sharp East wind, and the roaring West,
Impell the shatter'd vessel into port.
But I, O Noble Corse! will follow thee
Where lordly Death, in desolate abode
Of rich, and storied Marble, silent sits.
In this mute residence, illustrious Shade!
Repose at peace! for here your Country calls
Her best-lov'd sons, which are her worthiest too,
Midst sculptured monuments herself has rais'd;
Kings, scholars, warriors, here together sleep.
The generous Britons croud around his tomb,
As 'twere the shrine of Mars, and virgins fair,
Their lovely cheeks tinged by sad sorrow's glow,
With many a pitying tear bedew the stone.
And pensive age a doleful pleasure feels,
To find that British Valour is not fled.
Your lov'd Companions heave the emulous sigh,
And view the sacred spot with stedfast gaze,
In silence wrapt, and thoughtful melancholy.
And while his sacred Manes roams the sky,
Or loves to hover round the British flags,
Watchful to guard the empire of the sea,
And strike dismay, and anguish on the foe;
This hallow'd marble shall inspire the brave,
And in each tender, unexperienced mind,
Excite the gen'rous, patriotic flame:
Shall raise the soul to deeds of high renown,
And give a great example to mankind,
How for their country they should live, and die.