Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
I.
Ambition! whence thy resting place?
Or hast thou none e'er found?
Alas! thy every-stinging case
Home, peace, and love have drown'd:
Thou canst not see, nor canst thou hear,
The name superior or compeer,
But instant swells thy envious soul
To sink him under thy control;
Though, to accomplish thy desire,
Whole cities blaze in vengeful fire;
Though thousands draw their latest breath
Upon the bloody field of death;
Though Pity, bathed in silent tears,
The scream of ravish'd maidens hears;
All must obey thy dire command,
Though desolation sweep the land.
Or hast thou none e'er found?
Alas! thy every-stinging case
Home, peace, and love have drown'd:
320
The name superior or compeer,
But instant swells thy envious soul
To sink him under thy control;
Though, to accomplish thy desire,
Whole cities blaze in vengeful fire;
Though thousands draw their latest breath
Upon the bloody field of death;
Though Pity, bathed in silent tears,
The scream of ravish'd maidens hears;
All must obey thy dire command,
Though desolation sweep the land.
Great Philip's conquest-loving son
Did court thy meteor glare,
Till he the Eastern world had won,
By blood, and toil, and care:
Thus, great in fame and grandeur grown,
A vanquish'd world at will his own;
Puff'd up, no longer he'll confess
He sprung was from the mortal class—
But doth assume the sovereign nod,
And doth proclaim himself a god;
Until the vine's subduing power
Did wheel around the fatal hour
Which caused him enter death's dark portal,
And claim his friendship with the mortal;
Fate's barbed dagger struck the blow,
And laid him like his fellows low.
Did court thy meteor glare,
Till he the Eastern world had won,
By blood, and toil, and care:
Thus, great in fame and grandeur grown,
A vanquish'd world at will his own;
Puff'd up, no longer he'll confess
He sprung was from the mortal class—
But doth assume the sovereign nod,
And doth proclaim himself a god;
Until the vine's subduing power
Did wheel around the fatal hour
Which caused him enter death's dark portal,
And claim his friendship with the mortal;
Fate's barbed dagger struck the blow,
And laid him like his fellows low.
Say, muse! for thou alone canst spy,
With thy bright retrospective eye,
The lapse of ages past—
Say, what eventful deeds were done,
That day, by Philip's martial son;
What numbers breathed their last.
Thy wings expand, and waft me o'er
The gulph of ages gone;
Oh bear me to Cilicia's shore,
Nor leave me there alone:
To me the battle scene unfold
Which fought was in the days of old—
The feats of valour there perform'd,
The hapless victims how deform'd,
The warriors' face, indignant burning,
Repell'd by force, with hope returning!
The din of arms, the battle shout,
The victor's fire, the conquer'd's rout!
And, when I've view'd this scene of yore,
Return me to my native shore,
With peace and freedom sweet to dwell,
Far from the noisy battle's swell.
With thy bright retrospective eye,
The lapse of ages past—
Say, what eventful deeds were done,
That day, by Philip's martial son;
What numbers breathed their last.
Thy wings expand, and waft me o'er
The gulph of ages gone;
Oh bear me to Cilicia's shore,
Nor leave me there alone:
To me the battle scene unfold
Which fought was in the days of old—
321
The hapless victims how deform'd,
The warriors' face, indignant burning,
Repell'd by force, with hope returning!
The din of arms, the battle shout,
The victor's fire, the conquer'd's rout!
And, when I've view'd this scene of yore,
Return me to my native shore,
With peace and freedom sweet to dwell,
Far from the noisy battle's swell.
Loth rose the low November sun,
To gild the dark horizon;
The sight that day he sought to shun
Behind the vapours, floating dun;
A sight so dire he never cast his eyes on!
He sought it to evade in vain,
For quickly clear'd the dewy plain,
And, full before his potent ray,
The battle ranks appear'd that day:
He heard the war clang sounding high,
The wounded groan, the conquer'd sigh!
He saw the Persians backward reel
Before the glare of Grecian steel,
And, ere he kiss'd the shades of night,
The Persian army put to flight!
To gild the dark horizon;
The sight that day he sought to shun
Behind the vapours, floating dun;
A sight so dire he never cast his eyes on!
He sought it to evade in vain,
For quickly clear'd the dewy plain,
And, full before his potent ray,
The battle ranks appear'd that day:
He heard the war clang sounding high,
The wounded groan, the conquer'd sigh!
He saw the Persians backward reel
Before the glare of Grecian steel,
And, ere he kiss'd the shades of night,
The Persian army put to flight!
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |