The Trident of Albion An Epic Effusion; And An Oration on the Influence of Elocution on Martial Enthusiasm; With An Address to the Shade of Nelson: Delivered at The Lyceum, Liverpool, On Occasion of the late Glorious Naval Victory. To which is prefixed, An Introductory Discourse on the Nature and Objects of Elocutionary Science. By John Thelwall |
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 | The Trident of Albion |  |
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THE TRIDENT OF ALBION:
AN EPIC EFFUSION; Sacred to the Glorious Cause of National Independence.
“ENGLAND EXPECTS EVERY MAN TO DO HIS DUTY.”
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WHO first—who last thy Naval Thunder roll'd,
And drove thy Water-Chariot o'er the deep
Triumphant? trident-sceptred Albion, say—
Glory of Ocean's race! Unfold to view
The Pictur'd records of that dauntless worth,
Which, in full Panoply of glory, guards
Thy Sea-girt Strength;—secure amidst the storm,
Or o'er the storm exulting:—from that day
When first thy Fasces, o'er the Ocean borne,
Controll'd the wayward Fates, even to the time
When (as with Omnipresent Valour) flew
From Pole to Pole—from Orient to the West,
Thy aweful Nelson; still, where Danger lower'd,
For ever found: where Nilus swells his floods,—
Where Transatlantic Islands, menac'd, call
His guardian arm; or proud Trafalgar's Cape
Embays the hostile squadrons: Victor still!—
In Science, as in Valour, uncompar'd,
And all-pervading—all-controlling mind.
And drove thy Water-Chariot o'er the deep
Triumphant? trident-sceptred Albion, say—
Glory of Ocean's race! Unfold to view
The Pictur'd records of that dauntless worth,
Which, in full Panoply of glory, guards
Thy Sea-girt Strength;—secure amidst the storm,
Or o'er the storm exulting:—from that day
When first thy Fasces, o'er the Ocean borne,
Controll'd the wayward Fates, even to the time
When (as with Omnipresent Valour) flew
From Pole to Pole—from Orient to the West,
Thy aweful Nelson; still, where Danger lower'd,
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Where Transatlantic Islands, menac'd, call
His guardian arm; or proud Trafalgar's Cape
Embays the hostile squadrons: Victor still!—
In Science, as in Valour, uncompar'd,
And all-pervading—all-controlling mind.
Unfold!—unfold the Roll of Ages!—Let
The swelling scenes, in all their pomp array'd,
Beam on my favour'd sight.
The swelling scenes, in all their pomp array'd,
Beam on my favour'd sight.
And, lo! it spreads!—
In tints of living light, that ne'er shall fade,
The pictur'd story glows. Distinct and clear,
Time-honour'd Triumphs, and the honour'd dead,
In long procession, march; while, o'er the waves,
Sounds the loud Conch, and Pole to distant Pole
Reverberates thy fame.
In tints of living light, that ne'er shall fade,
The pictur'd story glows. Distinct and clear,
Time-honour'd Triumphs, and the honour'd dead,
In long procession, march; while, o'er the waves,
Sounds the loud Conch, and Pole to distant Pole
Reverberates thy fame.
CARAUSIUS first
(His Celtic limbs in Roman arms array'd,
And Cerule Robe Imperial) from thy hand
Receives the Trident, by his valour won,
When first his Britons to the war he led,—
The Ocean-War; and, in the glorious cause
Of British Independence, bade his Keels
Break thro the chains, by foreign Tyrants drawn
Round thy indignant shores.
(His Celtic limbs in Roman arms array'd,
And Cerule Robe Imperial) from thy hand
Receives the Trident, by his valour won,
When first his Britons to the war he led,—
The Ocean-War; and, in the glorious cause
Of British Independence, bade his Keels
Break thro the chains, by foreign Tyrants drawn
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Next, shrin'd in light,
In constellated glories clad, divine!
Britain's best boast, immortal ALFRED! comes;
His country's truest Father! at whose name
What knee not bows?—what head is not inclin'd
In patriot adoration?
In constellated glories clad, divine!
Britain's best boast, immortal ALFRED! comes;
His country's truest Father! at whose name
What knee not bows?—what head is not inclin'd
In patriot adoration?
Ah! what woes,
Albion, were thine, when first his saviour hand
Collects thy trampled ensigns. O'er the Realm,
Palsied with panic horror, and abas'd
In servile shackles,—prowls thĕ inebriate Dane,
Breathing annihilation: while, upborn
On ominous pinion, with blood-dropping beak,
O'er many a City sack'd, and waste Champaign,
The Raven screams; and, midst her Song of Death,
Rapine and Rape, Pollution, and the Scourge
Of reckless Tyranny—(attendants sure
Of Foreign Subjugation) stalk at large.
Albion, were thine, when first his saviour hand
Collects thy trampled ensigns. O'er the Realm,
Palsied with panic horror, and abas'd
In servile shackles,—prowls thĕ inebriate Dane,
Breathing annihilation: while, upborn
On ominous pinion, with blood-dropping beak,
O'er many a City sack'd, and waste Champaign,
The Raven screams; and, midst her Song of Death,
Rapine and Rape, Pollution, and the Scourge
Of reckless Tyranny—(attendants sure
Of Foreign Subjugation) stalk at large.
The shrieks of Virgins, and the Matron's howl
O'er quarter'd Innocents, and Cradles, stain'd
With unresisted slaughters, pierce his soul,
Awhile in vain deploring.
O'er quarter'd Innocents, and Cradles, stain'd
With unresisted slaughters, pierce his soul,
Awhile in vain deploring.
But, ere long,
Awful he rises,—in tremendous power
Of Arm and Mind, and strength of Patriot Worth,
Invincible; while,—with a voice, might wake
The soul of Valour from the mouldering tombs
Of time-envelop'd Ancestry, he calls
His bands compatriot: his compatriot bands
Hear the glad voice—that, thro each fainting breast,
Kindles reviving energy. At once,
Bursting its bonds, in giant force renew'd,
Stalks forth the Martial Realm; Briarëus like,
Lifting the multitudinous arm, to quell
Invading Arrogance.
Awful he rises,—in tremendous power
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Invincible; while,—with a voice, might wake
The soul of Valour from the mouldering tombs
Of time-envelop'd Ancestry, he calls
His bands compatriot: his compatriot bands
Hear the glad voice—that, thro each fainting breast,
Kindles reviving energy. At once,
Bursting its bonds, in giant force renew'd,
Stalks forth the Martial Realm; Briarëus like,
Lifting the multitudinous arm, to quell
Invading Arrogance.
The Dane is crush'd:
Oppression prowls no more. The Peaceful Arts
Lift up their heads and smile;—smile to behold
The Virgin, in her own pure thoughts secure,
Stray thro the sylvan haunts; the Mother, clasp
The Babe, untrembling, to her foodfull breast,
And Peace with Freedom reign.
Oppression prowls no more. The Peaceful Arts
Lift up their heads and smile;—smile to behold
The Virgin, in her own pure thoughts secure,
Stray thro the sylvan haunts; the Mother, clasp
The Babe, untrembling, to her foodfull breast,
And Peace with Freedom reign.
But, these to guard,
Behold, the Patriot Monarch, to thy hand,
Resuscitated Albion, gives again
The Trident-Sceptre; and, from every Port,
Harbour and Bay of thy indented Shore,
His Navy rides, triumphing.
Behold, the Patriot Monarch, to thy hand,
Resuscitated Albion, gives again
The Trident-Sceptre; and, from every Port,
Harbour and Bay of thy indented Shore,
His Navy rides, triumphing.
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Can the tongue
Of varied Eloquence find words to tell
The long succeeding glories? Can the hand
Of chissell'd Artist bid the marble breathe
In adequate proportions, till, emboss'd
In living Portraiture, the long—long line.
Of Naval Worthies rise? Our Raleighs—who
With intellectual energy, inform'd
The Martial mass; beaming, o'er Valour's breast,
The illumin'd warmth of Science!—our brave Blakes,
Who first, with floating bulwarks, overaw'd
Embattled Promontŏries; whose mural strength
(Till then invulnĕrable to naval war)
Shrunk in their fix'd foundations; while the Sea,
With borrow'd thunders and wide-wasting fires,
Menac'd the shores, and the deep-rooted pride
Of Terrene Empire shook.
Of varied Eloquence find words to tell
The long succeeding glories? Can the hand
Of chissell'd Artist bid the marble breathe
In adequate proportions, till, emboss'd
In living Portraiture, the long—long line.
Of Naval Worthies rise? Our Raleighs—who
With intellectual energy, inform'd
The Martial mass; beaming, o'er Valour's breast,
The illumin'd warmth of Science!—our brave Blakes,
Who first, with floating bulwarks, overaw'd
Embattled Promontŏries; whose mural strength
(Till then invulnĕrable to naval war)
Shrunk in their fix'd foundations; while the Sea,
With borrow'd thunders and wide-wasting fires,
Menac'd the shores, and the deep-rooted pride
Of Terrene Empire shook.
Let Columns rise—
Let proud Pantheons spread their storied walls,
And give some Gleanings, to the popular gaze,
Of that full Harvest the Historic Muse
Upstores in faithful record; but the hand
Of Art sinks powerless—and thĕ o'erwearied Voice
Falters, exhausted, o'er the copious theme.
Let proud Pantheons spread their storied walls,
And give some Gleanings, to the popular gaze,
Of that full Harvest the Historic Muse
Upstores in faithful record; but the hand
Of Art sinks powerless—and thĕ o'erwearied Voice
Falters, exhausted, o'er the copious theme.
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Yet can my Tongue forego thy patriot praise,
Immortal DRAKE? Can the big heart, that heaves
With proud impatience, at the galling thought
Of foreign domination, e'er resign
The grateful theme?
Immortal DRAKE? Can the big heart, that heaves
With proud impatience, at the galling thought
Of foreign domination, e'er resign
The grateful theme?
Lo! from those cells, abhor'd,
Where Papal Superstition, midst the groans
Of tortur'd victims, mutters o'er her spells,
Blasting the germs of Reason,—issues forth
The fierce Inquisitor. Him Philip hails,—
Him and his councils; and, with Bigot Pride,
Prepares the vast Armada. O'er the Sea
It spreads—a floating Nation; and foredooms
Thĕ approaching fall of Albion. Racks and Chains
And ignominious Fetters, ballast deep
Each threatening bark, scarce buoyant with the freight
Of meditated Vengeance!
Where Papal Superstition, midst the groans
Of tortur'd victims, mutters o'er her spells,
Blasting the germs of Reason,—issues forth
The fierce Inquisitor. Him Philip hails,—
Him and his councils; and, with Bigot Pride,
Prepares the vast Armada. O'er the Sea
It spreads—a floating Nation; and foredooms
Thĕ approaching fall of Albion. Racks and Chains
And ignominious Fetters, ballast deep
Each threatening bark, scarce buoyant with the freight
Of meditated Vengeance!
But, behold!—
Albion, again, the Naval Sceptre shakes,
And speaks in all his Thunders!
Albion, again, the Naval Sceptre shakes,
And speaks in all his Thunders!
Where are now
The hopes of Foreign Spoilers? Racks and Chains
And Warlike preparations, and proud Fleets,
Misnam'd Invincible,—or deep-ingulph'd,
In Air exploded, or o'er Ocean strew'd,
Proclaim the Tyrant's folly; while brave Drake
Hauls, in proud triumph, up the shouting Thames,
Iberia's shatter'd relicks:—all that scap'd
Thĕ ăvenging tempest, and thy whelming wrath,
Pride of the fostering Ocean!
The hopes of Foreign Spoilers? Racks and Chains
And Warlike preparations, and proud Fleets,
Misnam'd Invincible,—or deep-ingulph'd,
In Air exploded, or o'er Ocean strew'd,
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Hauls, in proud triumph, up the shouting Thames,
Iberia's shatter'd relicks:—all that scap'd
Thĕ ăvenging tempest, and thy whelming wrath,
Pride of the fostering Ocean!
Humbled thence,
The Bigot Power resigns her threatening port
Imperious; nor, resurgent from the shock,
The martial brow, even yet, again has rear'd
In wonted Majesty. Nor she alone;—
All Nations, by the dread example taught,
Have shunn'd thy vengeful shores.
The Bigot Power resigns her threatening port
Imperious; nor, resurgent from the shock,
The martial brow, even yet, again has rear'd
In wonted Majesty. Nor she alone;—
All Nations, by the dread example taught,
Have shunn'd thy vengeful shores.
But, see!—the Gaul,
Inebriate with success,—and, by the pride
Of wide-extended frontier, urg'd to grasp
At Universal Sovereignty,—defies
All Elements, and all Examples taught
Of over-weening Arrogance, and cries—
“Empire is mine, alone!—All Nations else
“Shall, as my vassals, at thĕ ŭnquestion'd nod
“Of my Ambition, bend the suppliant neck;
“My Will alone their Law!”
Inebriate with success,—and, by the pride
Of wide-extended frontier, urg'd to grasp
At Universal Sovereignty,—defies
All Elements, and all Examples taught
Of over-weening Arrogance, and cries—
“Empire is mine, alone!—All Nations else
“Shall, as my vassals, at thĕ ŭnquestion'd nod
“Of my Ambition, bend the suppliant neck;
“My Will alone their Law!”
O fickle race,
And abject!—even amidst thy boundless pride,
Most abject! for the lust of spreading sway
All else resigning! and content, thyself,
To bend beneath a Tyrant's yoke, and own
A foreign Master! He, (uncurb'd by Law,
Or Ties of Nature, or what sacred else,
Good Men, or Wise have reverenc'd, tramples down
Vassal alike, or Neighbour; and ensnares,
With perjur'd treaties, or with inroad dark
Of midnight depredation, whom his pride
Marks for Destruction—D'Enghien or Tousaint;—
In mirky forest! or in dungeon's gloom!
And abject!—even amidst thy boundless pride,
Most abject! for the lust of spreading sway
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To bend beneath a Tyrant's yoke, and own
A foreign Master! He, (uncurb'd by Law,
Or Ties of Nature, or what sacred else,
Good Men, or Wise have reverenc'd, tramples down
Vassal alike, or Neighbour; and ensnares,
With perjur'd treaties, or with inroad dark
Of midnight depredation, whom his pride
Marks for Destruction—D'Enghien or Tousaint;—
In mirky forest! or in dungeon's gloom!
Where Albion now—where gasping Europe—where,
But for our NELSON's providential care
And dauntless Valour—where had been your hopes?
But for our NELSON's providential care
And dauntless Valour—where had been your hopes?
For, see—portentous, o'er the Nations, glares
The pestilential Scourge, and breathes around
Dismay and Subjugation. Panic-struck,
The Austrian Eagle, from his powerless grasp,
Lets fall the extinguish'd Thunder. One deep groan
Thrills thro the Continent: and Britain hears,
With sympathising horror. On each brow
Sits dark Dismay, and heart-corroding Care,
And boding Apprehension.
The pestilential Scourge, and breathes around
Dismay and Subjugation. Panic-struck,
The Austrian Eagle, from his powerless grasp,
Lets fall the extinguish'd Thunder. One deep groan
Thrills thro the Continent: and Britain hears,
With sympathising horror. On each brow
Sits dark Dismay, and heart-corroding Care,
And boding Apprehension.
“Shall thy fields,
Fair Queen of Isles! to the Invader's hoof
“Yield its soft verdure? Shall thy bleating hills
“And fertile vallies witness the fierce strife
“Of doubtful Carnage? and thy beauteous dames
“Shriek in the grasp of foreign Ravishers?—
“Or scape pollution only thro the blood
“Of Husbands and of Brothers, in their sight
“Nobly expiring?”
Fair Queen of Isles! to the Invader's hoof
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“And fertile vallies witness the fierce strife
“Of doubtful Carnage? and thy beauteous dames
“Shriek in the grasp of foreign Ravishers?—
“Or scape pollution only thro the blood
“Of Husbands and of Brothers, in their sight
“Nobly expiring?”
While such thoughts distract,
Albion, thy Inland Sons—lo! thro the gloom,
Forth from thy darken'd Coasts, indignant flies
The Naval Thunder; and once more averts,
(O'er many a Sea loud pealing) the dread fate
Of else-devoted Europe. On thy Car
Of Sea-borne Triumph, lo! the Veteran Chief,
By thrice twice twenty Victories renown'd,
Controls the Waves. Iberia feels once more,
Leagued with the Gaul, that every league is vain,
When sounds thy warrior Conch; and Gaul, that own'd,
From rescu'd Nilus,—that “o'er Ocean's realm
“Thou reign'st invincible,” again bewails
Her impotent presumption.
Albion, thy Inland Sons—lo! thro the gloom,
Forth from thy darken'd Coasts, indignant flies
The Naval Thunder; and once more averts,
(O'er many a Sea loud pealing) the dread fate
Of else-devoted Europe. On thy Car
Of Sea-borne Triumph, lo! the Veteran Chief,
By thrice twice twenty Victories renown'd,
Controls the Waves. Iberia feels once more,
Leagued with the Gaul, that every league is vain,
When sounds thy warrior Conch; and Gaul, that own'd,
From rescu'd Nilus,—that “o'er Ocean's realm
“Thou reign'st invincible,” again bewails
Her impotent presumption.
From her fears
The rescu'd World revives;—the Sea redeems
The Land's disasters; and from Albion's shores
Ascends the Song of Triumph.
The rescu'd World revives;—the Sea redeems
The Land's disasters; and from Albion's shores
Ascends the Song of Triumph.
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See!—sublime,
On his own element resistless still,
The Ocean Monarch rides; and, from the prow,
Gorgeous wìth recent trophies, calls aloud
His Martial Sons; and bids them “form, intense,
“With horrent front, along the guarded shore,
“The Patriot rampart;—firm and undismay'd;
“Prepar'd to second what his sea-born sons
“So nobly dare;—that (whatsoe'er betide,
“From chance, or covert guile, or treasur'd wrath
“Of unappeased Destinies)—secure
“In conscious unanimity, and strength
“Of Arms prepar'd, and adamantine links
“Of love fraternal,—Britain still may stand,
“Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds,—
“Tho all should fall beside.”
On his own element resistless still,
The Ocean Monarch rides; and, from the prow,
Gorgeous wìth recent trophies, calls aloud
His Martial Sons; and bids them “form, intense,
“With horrent front, along the guarded shore,
“The Patriot rampart;—firm and undismay'd;
“Prepar'd to second what his sea-born sons
“So nobly dare;—that (whatsoe'er betide,
“From chance, or covert guile, or treasur'd wrath
“Of unappeased Destinies)—secure
“In conscious unanimity, and strength
“Of Arms prepar'd, and adamantine links
“Of love fraternal,—Britain still may stand,
“Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds,—
“Tho all should fall beside.”
Unanimous,
From rank to rank, thro all her kindling sons,
With deep-breath'd vows of emulation, rings
The shout responsive—“Tho all else should fall,
“Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds,
“Britain shall still remain!”
From rank to rank, thro all her kindling sons,
With deep-breath'd vows of emulation, rings
The shout responsive—“Tho all else should fall,
“Free from the infamy of Foreign Bonds,
“Britain shall still remain!”
But, ah! what gloom
Damps the proud Joy, and o'er thy awful brow
(Victorious Albion!) and fire-darting eye,
Spreads its dark shade?—He falls!—thy Hero falls!
Even in the Arms of Victory, he falls;
And NELSON—is a name!
Damps the proud Joy, and o'er thy awful brow
(Victorious Albion!) and fire-darting eye,
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Even in the Arms of Victory, he falls;
And NELSON—is a name!
Mourn, Albion mourn!
Mourn midst thy Triumphs. Let the generous tear,
The heart-heav'd sigh of pious gratitude
Embalm thy Champion; and thy Laurel Wreaths
Mingle with baneful Cypress. He is gone,—
Cause of thy Triumph; in the silent Tomb,
With the Time-honour'd dead, for thee he sleeps.
He whom thrice forty Victories renown,
Victim himself, thy Nelson is no more!
Mourn midst thy Triumphs. Let the generous tear,
The heart-heav'd sigh of pious gratitude
Embalm thy Champion; and thy Laurel Wreaths
Mingle with baneful Cypress. He is gone,—
Cause of thy Triumph; in the silent Tomb,
With the Time-honour'd dead, for thee he sleeps.
He whom thrice forty Victories renown,
Victim himself, thy Nelson is no more!
Mourn, Albion mourn! Nor Mersey! thou forget,
—Foremost of Tradeful Rivers, to deplore
Thy best defender;—who, from Sea to Sea,—
From Coast to Coast,—or where Aboukir spreads
Her spacious bay, or where thy Western Isles
Tempt the proud spoiler, or thy freighted Fleets,
Ploughing their homeward course, with fearful keel,
Elude the watchful foe:—More watchful he;
In providential valour, present still:—
Thy shield in every danger.
—Foremost of Tradeful Rivers, to deplore
Thy best defender;—who, from Sea to Sea,—
From Coast to Coast,—or where Aboukir spreads
Her spacious bay, or where thy Western Isles
Tempt the proud spoiler, or thy freighted Fleets,
Ploughing their homeward course, with fearful keel,
Elude the watchful foe:—More watchful he;
In providential valour, present still:—
Thy shield in every danger.
But, no more
His Saviour arm he spreads: no more upholds
The Fasces of the Main;—to other hands
(Not unremindful of his last behest
And patriot exhortation) now resign'd.
His Saviour arm he spreads: no more upholds
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(Not unremindful of his last behest
And patriot exhortation) now resign'd.
Mourn—Mersey mourn! with every tradeful stream
That to the Ocean Albion's tribute pours,
Join the long Dirge; and, midst your Triumphs, mourn.
He who o'er every Ocean Victor rode,—
Victim himself,—thy Nelson is no more!
That to the Ocean Albion's tribute pours,
Join the long Dirge; and, midst your Triumphs, mourn.
He who o'er every Ocean Victor rode,—
Victim himself,—thy Nelson is no more!
| The Trident of Albion | |