Sketches in verse :: :: University of Virginia Library

While Anarchy uprears her form
Gigantic in the martial storm,
And strides across the groaning plain
Where War hath heap'd his hills of slain,
Or (as she speeds the work of Death
Amid the city's lurid air)
Wafts wide, O Pestilence, thy breath,
Exulting in the venom'd gasp;
And, Famine! sinews thy fell grasp;
To the pale nations while with ghastly glare
She fires the sanguine eye, and lifts the bristling hair;

II

Still happy Albion, tho' her shore
Shake to the naval battle's roar,
Opes the green bosom of her isle
To meet, O Harmony, thy smile!
And tho' to military pride
Unfurl'd, her standard shade our coasts,
In vales where sparkling currents glide
Benignant Plenty pours her horn,
And Health as vivid as the morn
Amid the inspiring breeze his ardor boasts,
And Freedom roves secure, nor dreads assailing hosts!

III

No more the fiend-arrested foe
Heeds the gay-clustering vineyard's glow:
No more the village-dales of France
Give echoes to her airy dance.
No more her nobles bid the dome
Resound with music's festal note.
Alas! in desolated gloom
Portentous Ruin loads the ground;
Tho' erst the embattled palace frown'd
Shadowing with massy towers its ancient moat:
Alas! o'er sedgy lawns the unchannel'd waters float!

IV

Yet Albion, at the cottage-green,
Beholds, as erst, the quiet scene;
Still views the hereditary farm
With each domestic blessing warm;
Surveys the extensive granary fill'd
As in old time with Autumn's store,
While the same grounds his grandsire till'd
The yeoman's busy care repay:
Still sees the scutcheon'd hall display
The heraldric honors, as when chiefs of yore
Listen'd, in spousal state, to the rich minstrel lore.

V

Say, while each work that bore the rust
Of age, lies crumbled into dust,
In other climes, where, whelming all,
The war-fiend seems to crush the ball;
Say, by what magic power we hold
Tenures our sires were proud to own
Still unpolluted as of old?
Is it, that time hath render'd dear
The boon we cherish and revere?
We look not to this sacred source alone,
But to the filial love, which guards a George's throne!

VI

When we behold the regal rays,
That brighten to a sun-like blaze,
From the domestic circle spring
And in the parent mark the king;
Shall not affection, fond to trace
The virtues of our sire, avail,
To fix on yet untrembling base,
The pillars of the sovereign dome?
And if it's wonted beams illume
The palace, shall the castle-splendor fail,
Or shall the hamlet sink, and cease to cheer the dale?

VII

The cares that watch thy weal, O Prince,
A nation's loyal love evince—
That love which, linkt to harmony,
Heaven hath, perhaps, reserv'd for thee!
Yes! if the rose-inwoven bower
To spotless Hymen rear'd, refine
Thy soul in the connubial hour;
And if thy pure parental fire
Beyond the private walk aspire,
And in thy zeal for Britain's glory shine;
Then shall those ardent vows that bless thy sire, be thine.

VIII

Yes! if the sycophantic crew
Tremble thy footsteps to pursue,
Diffusing far the taint of vice
Where Riot glories to entice
The unweeting bosom to its snare;
If thou, with manly soul, dismiss
The extravagance, whose gaudy glare
The fool divine effulgence deems;
If, waken'd from the feverish dreams
Of love, thou spurn the sensual bliss,
Behold! thy garment's hem a grateful kingdom kiss.

IX

Bright in the charms of vernal youth
A Brunswick claims thy manly truth.
Not in the hues of Folly gay,
Or vagrant Dissipation's ray,
She comes from no degenerate court,
Where native dignity commands
Each sister-grace, their lov'd resort;
Where no imperious fashion haunts
Its cheerless victims as it flaunts
The ephemeral vesture, but in social bands
The blue-ey'd pleasures meet, and join their willing hands.

X

As yon bark skims the distant seas,
Impatience hovers on the breeze.
The murmurs of the wave subside,
And soft airs curl the ripling tide!
The dim sail whitens on the sight!
Around the gilded vessel dance
Colours, that stream a rainbow light!
I see the veiling umbrage shade
The blushes of the bridal maid!
And the Loves fluttering as the sails advance,
O'er her ambrosial form their purple pinions glance.

XI

The choral brilliance bursting round,
Her modest eye that meets the ground,
Seems sparkling to the crimson cheek,
Where her soft flaxen tresses break!
Sudden the unfolding portals blaze,
While millions hail their prince's choice.
Amid the universal gaze,
Amid the popular acclaim
That seems to stamp each hallow'd name
With images of fadeless worth, “rejoice!”
Yet “tremble!”—and attend a heaven-directed voice.

XII

The voice I hear—or seem to hear;
Breath'd in soft tones it meets my ear—
“Go, happy pair” (a spirit cries,
The Power that rules o'er British skies)
“Go, where the nuptial planet blends
“Its lustre with the Georgian star,
“And to the couch of Hymen lends
“The chasten'd influence, which alone
“Loosens, uncheckt, the virgin zone;
“While, gliding on the bosom of the air,
“Love wreathes with evening-flowers his dew-besprinkled car.

XIII

“Go, copy those perfections bright
“Which give to crowns untarnisht light—
“Be this your first, your proudest aim;
“For such is virtue, such is fame!
“So shall the British race transcribe
“Your fair examples not in vain;
“While, as they scorn the venal tribe,
“And crush the democratic band
“Who hurl around the burning brand,
“They bid the throne its pristine pomp retain,
“And Albion, in her Howes, still sway the extensive main.”.