The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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THE TEARS OF BRITAIN. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
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THE TEARS OF BRITAIN.
Princes and Peers may flourish or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath hath made;
But a bold peasantry, their Country's pride,
When once destroy'd can never be suppli'd.
Deserted Village.
A breath can make them, as a breath hath made;
But a bold peasantry, their Country's pride,
When once destroy'd can never be suppli'd.
Deserted Village.
Aloft on the verge of the wide stormy flood,
The genius of Britain disconsolate stood;
Fast heav'd her sad heart, while she gaz'd down beneath,
On armies, and navies, and victims of death;
Her best sons departing beneath ev'ry sail,
And War's loud'ning shrieks rising fast on the gale;
Joy chear'd not her bosom, Hope soothed her no more,
And thus in deep grief she was heard to deplore,
The genius of Britain disconsolate stood;
Fast heav'd her sad heart, while she gaz'd down beneath,
On armies, and navies, and victims of death;
Her best sons departing beneath ev'ry sail,
And War's loud'ning shrieks rising fast on the gale;
Joy chear'd not her bosom, Hope soothed her no more,
And thus in deep grief she was heard to deplore,
‘Far fled from my country, where woes never cease,
Far fled are the comforts and presence of Peace!
Slow, mournfully-rising, with tears in her eye,
I saw the sweet goddess ascending on high;
Hope, Commerce, and Wealth, followed sad in her train,
And Pity, that soothes the deep sorrows of Pain;
All fled from the heart-sinking battle's loud roar,
And lost, amid horrors, I saw them no more.
Far fled are the comforts and presence of Peace!
Slow, mournfully-rising, with tears in her eye,
I saw the sweet goddess ascending on high;
Hope, Commerce, and Wealth, followed sad in her train,
And Pity, that soothes the deep sorrows of Pain;
All fled from the heart-sinking battle's loud roar,
And lost, amid horrors, I saw them no more.
‘O why from my shores were they forc'd to depart?
What arm can the scourge of Destruction avert?
'Midst famine, and slaughter, must Britons still mourn?
Will Peace, precious Peace, to our isle ne'er return?
Alas! when the madness of Party is past,
When we with our country lie murder'd and waste,
She then, when the dread devastation is o'er,
May come—but will smile on the prospect no more.
What arm can the scourge of Destruction avert?
'Midst famine, and slaughter, must Britons still mourn?
Will Peace, precious Peace, to our isle ne'er return?
Alas! when the madness of Party is past,
When we with our country lie murder'd and waste,
She then, when the dread devastation is o'er,
May come—but will smile on the prospect no more.
‘Blest Peace! best companion of mortals below,
Fair daughter of Heav'n! sweet soother of woe!
Thou kind nurse of Science! Art's glory and boast,
O how art thou banish'd, neglected, and lost!
No ray left of hope to point out thy return,
No comfort, but long thy departure to mourn;
While Want is wild heard round each dwelling to growl,
And dark hopeless Mis'ry sinks deep o'er each soul.
Fair daughter of Heav'n! sweet soother of woe!
Thou kind nurse of Science! Art's glory and boast,
O how art thou banish'd, neglected, and lost!
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No comfort, but long thy departure to mourn;
While Want is wild heard round each dwelling to growl,
And dark hopeless Mis'ry sinks deep o'er each soul.
‘What eye without tears can the ruin survey,
That wide o'er my country fast urges its way!
The huge domes of industry, rear'd in such haste,
Unfinish'd and useless, lie dreary and waste;
Sore harass'd, and worn with despondence and care,
The poor Manufacturer yields to despair;
Discharges his workmen, in mis'ry to wail,
And sinks 'mid the comfortless glooms of a jail.
That wide o'er my country fast urges its way!
The huge domes of industry, rear'd in such haste,
Unfinish'd and useless, lie dreary and waste;
Sore harass'd, and worn with despondence and care,
The poor Manufacturer yields to despair;
Discharges his workmen, in mis'ry to wail,
And sinks 'mid the comfortless glooms of a jail.
‘Down yonder rough beach, where the vessels attend,
I see the sad emigrants slowly descend;
Compell'd by the weight of oppression and woe,
Their kindred, and native, and friends to forego.
In these drooping crowds that depart every day,
I see the true strength of the State glide away;
While countries, that hail the glad strangers to shore,
Shall flourish when Britain's proud pomp is no more.
I see the sad emigrants slowly descend;
Compell'd by the weight of oppression and woe,
Their kindred, and native, and friends to forego.
In these drooping crowds that depart every day,
I see the true strength of the State glide away;
While countries, that hail the glad strangers to shore,
Shall flourish when Britain's proud pomp is no more.
‘Her towns are unpeopl'd, her commerce decay'd,
And shut up are all her resources of trade:
The starving mechanic, bereav'd of each hope,
Steals pensively home from his desolate shop;
Surveys with an anguish words ne'er can express,
The pale sighing partner of all his distress;
While round them, imploring, their little ones meet,
And crave from their mama a morsel to eat.
And shut up are all her resources of trade:
The starving mechanic, bereav'd of each hope,
Steals pensively home from his desolate shop;
Surveys with an anguish words ne'er can express,
The pale sighing partner of all his distress;
While round them, imploring, their little ones meet,
And crave from their mama a morsel to eat.
‘From weeping relations, regardlessly torn,
Her unthinking youths to the battle are borne;
There, train'd amid slaughter and ruin to wade,
They toil in the heart-steeling, barbarous trade.
What crowds, hurried on by the terrible call,
Pale, ghastly, and blood-covered carcases fall!
Earth heaves with the heaps, still resigning their breath,
And friends, foes, and kindred, lie wallowing in death.
Her unthinking youths to the battle are borne;
There, train'd amid slaughter and ruin to wade,
They toil in the heart-steeling, barbarous trade.
What crowds, hurried on by the terrible call,
Pale, ghastly, and blood-covered carcases fall!
Earth heaves with the heaps, still resigning their breath,
And friends, foes, and kindred, lie wallowing in death.
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‘Ah were they but doom'd to one misery to yield!
But nameless, alas, are the deaths of the field;
Grim hollow-ey'd Famine bereaves them of bread,
And scarce can the living deposite their dead,
By hardships, disease, and an inclement sky,
In thousands they sicken, and languish, and die;
Unpitied, and cast amid heaps of the brave,
With scarce one companion to sigh o'er their grave.
But nameless, alas, are the deaths of the field;
Grim hollow-ey'd Famine bereaves them of bread,
And scarce can the living deposite their dead,
By hardships, disease, and an inclement sky,
In thousands they sicken, and languish, and die;
Unpitied, and cast amid heaps of the brave,
With scarce one companion to sigh o'er their grave.
‘Old ocean, that bore home her treasures from far,
Now growls with the thunder and horrors of War;
There Plunderers, licens'd to murder and prey,
Bear half of our riches, unquestion'd, away;
While tow'ring in terrible pomp o'er the main,
The bulwarks of Britain are roaving in vain,
In search of acquirements that (justly to rate)
But serve to depress and embarass the State.
Now growls with the thunder and horrors of War;
There Plunderers, licens'd to murder and prey,
Bear half of our riches, unquestion'd, away;
While tow'ring in terrible pomp o'er the main,
The bulwarks of Britain are roaving in vain,
In search of acquirements that (justly to rate)
But serve to depress and embarass the State.
‘From Indian's wide-spreading, remote, sultry shore,
The long-absent seaman steers homeward once more;
Encounters, unwearied, the waves and the gale,
His dear smiling wife, and his children to hail.
But never, alas, shall the poor friendless train
Behold their belov'd benefactor again;
In sight of his country he's dragged forth anew,
And England for ever recedes from his view.
The long-absent seaman steers homeward once more;
Encounters, unwearied, the waves and the gale,
His dear smiling wife, and his children to hail.
But never, alas, shall the poor friendless train
Behold their belov'd benefactor again;
In sight of his country he's dragged forth anew,
And England for ever recedes from his view.
‘These woes, horrid War! thou unmerciful fiend!
These woes are the shades that thy footsteps attend.
Arous'd by the call of Ambition and Pride,
Thou wakes, and the earth with destruction is dy'd.
The red blazing city enlight'ning the air,
The shrieks of distraction, the groans of despair,
Remorseless as hell thou behold'st with delight,
While Pity, far distant, turns pale at the sight.
These woes are the shades that thy footsteps attend.
Arous'd by the call of Ambition and Pride,
Thou wakes, and the earth with destruction is dy'd.
The red blazing city enlight'ning the air,
The shrieks of distraction, the groans of despair,
Remorseless as hell thou behold'st with delight,
While Pity, far distant, turns pale at the sight.
‘Shall then such a monster, a fiend so accurs'd,
By Britons be welcom'd, embosom'd, and nurs'd?
Shall they, on whose prudence and mercy we rest,
Be deaf to the cries of a nation distrest?
Yes!—scorn'd for a while my poor children may mourn,
Contemn'd and neglected, depress'd and forlorn;
Till bursting the bands of oppression, they soar
Aloft from the dust, to be trampled no more.
By Britons be welcom'd, embosom'd, and nurs'd?
Shall they, on whose prudence and mercy we rest,
Be deaf to the cries of a nation distrest?
215
Contemn'd and neglected, depress'd and forlorn;
Till bursting the bands of oppression, they soar
Aloft from the dust, to be trampled no more.
‘High o'er Valenciennes, engulphed amid flame,
(The glory of Gallia, of despots the shame)
The wide-waving flag of Germania may flow,
And Tyranny shout o'er the horrors below;
But Liberty, radiant, immortal, looks down
On millions of heroes whose hearts are her own;
Who, sworn her defenders, will stand to their trust,
When towns yet unconquer'd are sunk in the dust.
(The glory of Gallia, of despots the shame)
The wide-waving flag of Germania may flow,
And Tyranny shout o'er the horrors below;
But Liberty, radiant, immortal, looks down
On millions of heroes whose hearts are her own;
Who, sworn her defenders, will stand to their trust,
When towns yet unconquer'd are sunk in the dust.
‘When rights are insulted, and justice deni'd,
When his country is threaten'd, his courage defied;
When tyrants denounce, and each vassal prepares,
'Tis then that the soul of the Briton appears:
Appears in the stern resolution reveal'd,
To rescue his country or sink in the field;
Indignant he burns the proud foe to pursue,
And conquest or death are the objects in view.
When his country is threaten'd, his courage defied;
When tyrants denounce, and each vassal prepares,
'Tis then that the soul of the Briton appears:
Appears in the stern resolution reveal'd,
To rescue his country or sink in the field;
Indignant he burns the proud foe to pursue,
And conquest or death are the objects in view.
‘Were these then the causes that rous'd us to wrath,
To fury and madness, to uproar and death?
Was Britain insulted, was justice refus'd,
Her honour, her quiet, or interest abus'd?
Thou Being Supreme! Who, in spite of each art,
Canst mark undisguis'd ev'ry thought of the heart,
Thou know'st the dark motives that urg'd them full well,
Thou know'st, and the ghosts of the murder'd will tell.
To fury and madness, to uproar and death?
Was Britain insulted, was justice refus'd,
Her honour, her quiet, or interest abus'd?
Thou Being Supreme! Who, in spite of each art,
Canst mark undisguis'd ev'ry thought of the heart,
Thou know'st the dark motives that urg'd them full well,
Thou know'st, and the ghosts of the murder'd will tell.
‘O scheme most accurs'd! pale Want and Distress
Call'd up, the resources of truth to repress!
A country laid prostrate, starv'd, butcher'd each day,
That vultures, unscar'd, on its vitals may prey!
Heaven frowns on such madness, that rising divine,
Aloft the great sun of fair Freedom may shine,
Bright, blazing, and boundless; till loud every shore
Resound, that the reign of Corruption is o'er.
Call'd up, the resources of truth to repress!
A country laid prostrate, starv'd, butcher'd each day,
That vultures, unscar'd, on its vitals may prey!
Heaven frowns on such madness, that rising divine,
Aloft the great sun of fair Freedom may shine,
Bright, blazing, and boundless; till loud every shore
Resound, that the reign of Corruption is o'er.
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‘Soon, soon will the tempest that thunders around,
This unshielded bosom most fatally wound;
And soon may the mighty promoters of woe
Desist, in the dust of submission laid low:
But, ah! what submission, repentance, or pain?
What treaties can call up the souls of the slain?
Can comfort Affliction, or soothe the sad cares
Of parents, and widows, and orphans in tears?
This unshielded bosom most fatally wound;
And soon may the mighty promoters of woe
Desist, in the dust of submission laid low:
But, ah! what submission, repentance, or pain?
What treaties can call up the souls of the slain?
Can comfort Affliction, or soothe the sad cares
Of parents, and widows, and orphans in tears?
‘These shouts that I hear from yon wide western plains,
Where distant Hibernia lies panting in chains;
Those pale bleeding corpses, thick strew'd o'er the ground,
Those law-sanctioned heroes triumphing around;
These speak in the voice of the loud-roaring flood,
And write this stern lesson in letters of blood:
Oppression may prosecute, Force bend the knee,
But free is that nation that wills to be free.
Where distant Hibernia lies panting in chains;
Those pale bleeding corpses, thick strew'd o'er the ground,
Those law-sanctioned heroes triumphing around;
These speak in the voice of the loud-roaring flood,
And write this stern lesson in letters of blood:
Oppression may prosecute, Force bend the knee,
But free is that nation that wills to be free.
‘Ye then who imperiously hold it at will,
The blood and the treasures of Britons to spill;
While Mis'ry implores, while such dangers impend,
While all is at stake, oh! in mercy attend!
Let War, the sad source of these sorrows, soon cease,
And bless a poor Land with the comforts of Peace:
Her commerce and credit to heal and restore,
Or Britain will fade, to reflourish no more.’
The blood and the treasures of Britons to spill;
While Mis'ry implores, while such dangers impend,
While all is at stake, oh! in mercy attend!
Let War, the sad source of these sorrows, soon cease,
And bless a poor Land with the comforts of Peace:
Her commerce and credit to heal and restore,
Or Britain will fade, to reflourish no more.’
She ceas'd; the sad tribute of tears follow'd fast,
While bleak low'r'd the heavens, and loud rose the blast;
Ascending in flashes the steep eastern sky,
The deep-rolling horrors of battle drew nigh;
A thick gloomy darkness, of mis'ry and dread,
Fell dismal, and Britain's lone regions o'erspread;
And nought could be seen but the lightning's pale glow,
Or heard, but the shrieks and the wailings of woe.
While bleak low'r'd the heavens, and loud rose the blast;
Ascending in flashes the steep eastern sky,
The deep-rolling horrors of battle drew nigh;
A thick gloomy darkness, of mis'ry and dread,
Fell dismal, and Britain's lone regions o'erspread;
And nought could be seen but the lightning's pale glow,
Or heard, but the shrieks and the wailings of woe.
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |