Poems original and translated :: :: University of Virginia Library

Yon party zealot, ignorant as warm,
Has taunted me with change—a charge untrue.
I ne'er was one with that deceitful crew,
Who mean Destruction when they roar “Reform;”
My purpose ever to prevent the storm
'Tis theirs to excite. The wholesome air I drew
With my first breath was Loyalty. I grew
In childhood reverence of her sacred form:
And, as she beam'd upon my youthful eye,
Link'd with her mountain sister Liberty,

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In holiest union, all the more she won
My love and worship; and so made me shun
The fellowship of those who madly try
To rend asunder what heaven join'd in one.

SONNET II.

“The king's name is a tower of strength”—e'en so
May it be ever in this favour'd land—
Of strength alike for succour and command,
Shelter from storms, and safety from the foe;
For refuge to the needy and the low,
When leagued oppressors their just rights withstand;
The nation's sure defence, whene'er the hand
Of bigot faction seeks its overthrow.
Then honour'd be that name by all who share
The blessings it protects; nor honour'd less
The patriot chieftain's, who, when dangers press,
Alike regardless, or of ambush'd snare,
Or fierce assault, with soldier steadfastness
Is ever at his post—to do and dare.

SONNET III.

“Awake! arise! or be for ever fallen.” —MILTON.

------, awake!—or sleep thy long, last sleep—
------, arise!—or be for ever lost
Among the fallen—What? know'st thou not the cost
Of real glory?—canst thou look to reap

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The great reward, by following those that creep
Along shore, when thy country's hopes are tost
On the wide main—by warring tempests crost,
And well nigh founder'd in the yawning deep?
------, awake! It is thy country's voice
That bids thee rouse—that calls thee to her side.
Thy name, so oft in glorious conflict tried,
When victory hath bid her sons rejoice,
We now invoke, to stem destruction's tide.
Awake! arise! the patriot hath no choice.

SONNET IV.

“Upon the king!” —SHAKSP. HENRY V.

------, awake!—The warning voice again—
Again, again it sounds—awake! arise!
Purge off the noxious film that clouds thine eyes,
Engender'd erst in faction's secret den.
There is no party now for honest men—
None but their country's. Here the good and wise
Have fix'd the sacred standard, that defies
Mere human force, and will be shaken then
Only, when God ordains. Upon a rock
It stands secure. An oak's wide branches fling
Their shadows round its base. About it flock
The nations, and there rest the wearied wing,
Unscathed by scorching hate, or envy's shock—
That rock our country, and that oak our king.