The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas ... In seven volumes. A new edition |
 |
|
 | SONGS. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas |  |
302
SONGS.
[_]
The six first were written on the arrival of the dispatches announcing the victory of the 11th of October, 1799; the rest are miscellaneous.
I. BRITANNIA'S SONG.
How long shall demons thus invade
The sacred rights of Reason's throne?
How long shall folly man degrade,
And wisdom, put to torture, groan?
Oh Neptune! father! rear thy head,
And listen to a daughter's grief:
Awhile forego thy wat'ry bed,
And bring Britannia's mind relief.
The sacred rights of Reason's throne?
How long shall folly man degrade,
And wisdom, put to torture, groan?
Oh Neptune! father! rear thy head,
And listen to a daughter's grief:
Awhile forego thy wat'ry bed,
And bring Britannia's mind relief.
While nations round submit to force,
Alone 'gainst demon hosts I stand,
Watchful to stem destruction's course,
And guard the welfare of the land.
Great Neptune comes—ye fiends! away,
Ye dare not wait th' immortal frown:
Hence! hide ye from the face of day:
Ye gloat in vain on Britain's crown.
Alone 'gainst demon hosts I stand,
Watchful to stem destruction's course,
And guard the welfare of the land.
Great Neptune comes—ye fiends! away,
Ye dare not wait th' immortal frown:
Hence! hide ye from the face of day:
Ye gloat in vain on Britain's crown.
303
II. NEPTUNE'S SONG.
Arouse Britannia! Neptune's care!
Nor let thy troubled breast despair,
While thou hast heroes bold.
Daughter of an immortal thou!
And ne'er to demon arts shall bow,
While I the trident hold.
Nor let thy troubled breast despair,
While thou hast heroes bold.
Daughter of an immortal thou!
And ne'er to demon arts shall bow,
While I the trident hold.
Britannia rouse! the times recall
When thou hast made the proud to fall,
Nor yield to vain alarms.
Iberia in her proudest day
At Howard's mercy humbled lay,
And Drake repell'd her arms.
When thou hast made the proud to fall,
Nor yield to vain alarms.
Iberia in her proudest day
At Howard's mercy humbled lay,
And Drake repell'd her arms.
Of late, when honour's voice supprest,
The lawless tyrant's pow'r confest,
She basely join'd the foe,
Her pompous sides the main o'erspread;
His little fleet St. Vincent led,
And laid Iberia low.
The lawless tyrant's pow'r confest,
She basely join'd the foe,
Her pompous sides the main o'erspread;
His little fleet St. Vincent led,
And laid Iberia low.
To Gallia turn, e'er Gallia's fate,
With wanton pow'r, had chang'd her state,
And view thy trophied story.
Remember Rooke and Russell's days,
Brave Hawke and Rodney in a blaze
Of wide extended glory.
With wanton pow'r, had chang'd her state,
And view thy trophied story.
304
Brave Hawke and Rodney in a blaze
Of wide extended glory.
And when mad Gallia, charg'd with gore,
The sceptre from her monarch tore,
Would make all nations bow;
Thy sons indignant round thee press'd,
Resolv'd to smite her pride-swoln crest;
The blow was struck by Howe.
The sceptre from her monarch tore,
Would make all nations bow;
Thy sons indignant round thee press'd,
Resolv'd to smite her pride-swoln crest;
The blow was struck by Howe.
Turn to Batavia's sluggish lake,
And recognize thy god-like Blake—
E'en now she dreads thy name:
But know thy genius tempts her forth,
And gives the warrior of the north
To rival ancient fame.
And recognize thy god-like Blake—
E'en now she dreads thy name:
But know thy genius tempts her forth,
And gives the warrior of the north
To rival ancient fame.
III. SONG OF A DUNDEE LASS,
ON HER LOVER AT SEA.
Jemmy was a bonny lad,
Well he pleugh'd his faither's glen,
But he cast away his plaid,
To go fight with gallant men.
On the pleasant banks of Tay,
Oft he told his love to me;
There he stole my heart away,
The lad of bonny Dundee.
Well he pleugh'd his faither's glen,
But he cast away his plaid,
To go fight with gallant men.
305
Oft he told his love to me;
There he stole my heart away,
The lad of bonny Dundee.
When he left the banks of Tay,
Fame to seek among the brave,
Many a lass's heart was wae,
But to me his troth he gave.
Maer to me his love than gold!
And when Jemmy comes fra' sea,
To my bosom will I fold
The lad of bonny Dundee.
Fame to seek among the brave,
Many a lass's heart was wae,
But to me his troth he gave.
Maer to me his love than gold!
And when Jemmy comes fra' sea,
To my bosom will I fold
The lad of bonny Dundee.
IV. THE ELEVENTH OF OCTOBER.
With the blue at the main, off the Texel we cruis'd,
And taught the mynheers their due distance,
Our offers of battle they always refus'd,
Nor ever show'd signs of resistance:
And taught the mynheers their due distance,
Our offers of battle they always refus'd,
Nor ever show'd signs of resistance:
For Duncan was there,
With many a tar,
Who had taught them the thunder of Britain to fear.
With many a tar,
Who had taught them the thunder of Britain to fear.
Perceiving the lubbers were shy and saw fear,
That nothing from anchor could budge 'em,
For England we steer'd, or pretended to steer,
But zounds we took care we would dodge 'em:
That nothing from anchor could budge 'em,
306
But zounds we took care we would dodge 'em:
For Duncan, &c.
They thought we were off, and so ventur'd to creep
Along the Dutch coast with broad bottom:
Brave Trollope bore down to take a sly peep,
And so you can't doubt but we got 'em:
Along the Dutch coast with broad bottom:
Brave Trollope bore down to take a sly peep,
And so you can't doubt but we got 'em:
For Duncan, &c.
'Twas off Camperdown that we gave them the dose,
Where Duncan came up with his thunder:
We first broke their line, then we stuck to them close,
And made the tough dogs all knock under:
Where Duncan came up with his thunder:
We first broke their line, then we stuck to them close,
And made the tough dogs all knock under:
For Duncan, &c.
But harkee, my lads, 'tis the rule of a tar,
When he talks of his foes still to say right;
Give Winter his due, he's a bold man of war,
And fought like a devil by daylight:
When he talks of his foes still to say right;
Give Winter his due, he's a bold man of war,
And fought like a devil by daylight:
Tho' Duncan, &c.
'Gainst Duncan he fought, so his valour was vain;
But long shall be told the brave story:
The Genius of Britain, who rules o'er the main,
By Duncan obtains a fresh glory:
But long shall be told the brave story:
The Genius of Britain, who rules o'er the main,
By Duncan obtains a fresh glory:
For Duncan, &c.
307
V. GLEE.
Grateful glees to Duncan raise,
Chant we glory to his name;
Britain's voice resounds his praise,
Sons of Britain sing his fame.
Neptune's hero!
Britain's glory!
Britain's voice resounds his praise,
Sons of Britain sing his fame.
Chant we glory to his name;
Britain's voice resounds his praise,
Sons of Britain sing his fame.
Neptune's hero!
Britain's glory!
Britain's voice resounds his praise,
Sons of Britain sing his fame.
Scotia claims the valiant thane,
Bold he rush'd upon the foe:
Victor of the northern main,
Well he struck the glorious blow:
Valiant hero!
Scotia's glory!
Victor of the northern main,
Well he struck the glorious blow.
Bold he rush'd upon the foe:
Victor of the northern main,
Well he struck the glorious blow:
Valiant hero!
Scotia's glory!
Victor of the northern main,
Well he struck the glorious blow.
Britannia speaks, after which the Finale follows.
My valiant sons! for whom Britannia's breastNow bounds exultant, now, by woe deprest,
Owns all the struggles of maternal care,
And eager every danger flies to share.
308
Long may your virtues claim a just applause!
Resist the gen'ral foe—her wiles unweave,
And all the rights of happiness achieve!
Rights which alone from sacred order flow,
Rights which confusion never can bestow.
And Oh! while yet in vision you confide,
Ere from your charmed sense this form shall glide,
Ideal being and an airy name,
To watch in Fancy's cell your bliss and fame,
Be from Britannia's lips this truth impress'd,
Nations, like men, by virtue must be bless'd.
In Virtue's train fair rule and order see,
A wise restraint, a noble liberty,
From laws by wisdom fram'd our blessings spring,
A people happy, and a patriot king.
These to maintain my former heroes led,
And many a British son hath nobly bled.
To-day my northern chief demands the song:
To him the sounds of triumph now belong.
VI. FINALE AND CHORUS.
Duncan hail! the glory's thine!
Well thou'st fought Britannia's cause:
Come and hear from Honour's shrine
Shouts of well-deserv'd applause:
Shout, shout his well-deserv'd applause.
Well thou'st fought Britannia's cause:
Come and hear from Honour's shrine
Shouts of well-deserv'd applause:
Shout, shout his well-deserv'd applause.
309
Future ages shall declare
Thou wert brave among the brave:
Time thine honour'd name shall spare
With the heroes of the wave:
Shout, shout the heroes of the wave.
Thou wert brave among the brave:
Time thine honour'd name shall spare
With the heroes of the wave:
Shout, shout the heroes of the wave.
Neptune crowns thee, valiant thane!
With the wreath so justly won,
Lord trumphant of the main!
Britain's glory! Vict'ry's son.
Shout, shout his glory, Vict'ry's son.
With the wreath so justly won,
Lord trumphant of the main!
Britain's glory! Vict'ry's son.
Shout, shout his glory, Vict'ry's son.
310
VII. SONG.
[Oh cease thy song, sweet Philomel]
Oh cease thy song, sweet Philomel,
Be hushed the voices of the grove,
Let only favouring zephyrs swell,
To waft my sighs to him I love—
Ah no! sweet bird! thy strain prolong,
And court him hither to my breast:
Allure him with thy magic song,
By love to bless and to be blest.
Be hushed the voices of the grove,
Let only favouring zephyrs swell,
To waft my sighs to him I love—
Ah no! sweet bird! thy strain prolong,
And court him hither to my breast:
Allure him with thy magic song,
By love to bless and to be blest.
Sweet melody the mind inspires,
And melody, sweet bird, is thine:
Enchant thou him my soul desires,
To equalize a love like mine.
Sweet Philomel! prolong thy strain,
Accordant to a lover's breast,
And hither charm my absent swain,
By love to bless and to be blest.
And melody, sweet bird, is thine:
Enchant thou him my soul desires,
To equalize a love like mine.
Sweet Philomel! prolong thy strain,
Accordant to a lover's breast,
And hither charm my absent swain,
By love to bless and to be blest.
311
VIII.
[Under Friendship's calmer form]
Under Friendship's calmer form,
Oft Love creeps to weave his wile:
Then unseen he plies his charm,
Veiling wings and wanton smile.
Oft Love creeps to weave his wile:
Then unseen he plies his charm,
Veiling wings and wanton smile.
As in strength the charm advances,
See the urchin bolder grow;
Playing frowns and jealous fancies,
Ah! too late we see the foe!
See the urchin bolder grow;
312
Ah! too late we see the foe!
Now in pity's form he works,
See him sport or anger move;
In what form soe'er he lurks,
Love in all his shapes is love.
See him sport or anger move;
In what form soe'er he lurks,
Love in all his shapes is love.
Fly him raging, weeping fly,
Nor his toying trust to prove:
Now a frown and now a sigh,
Love in all his shapes is love.
Nor his toying trust to prove:
Now a frown and now a sigh,
Love in all his shapes is love.
This song is a translation of [a] beautiful sonnet, or rather of the more beautiful version of it into Latin by Gray.
IX.
[From folly and from noise remote]
From folly and from noise remote,
Sweet songstress of the midnight leisure!
Ah! sooth my soul with softer note
Than softest stop of Lydian measure!
My list'ning ear shall catch the tale,
And sympathize, sweet Nightingale.
Sweet songstress of the midnight leisure!
Ah! sooth my soul with softer note
Than softest stop of Lydian measure!
My list'ning ear shall catch the tale,
And sympathize, sweet Nightingale.
Shy warbler to the modest moon!
Melodious most deaf trees among,
Can nodding forests catch the tune?
Or rustling groves admire the song?
Why sing'st alone thy mournful tale,
And shun'st the day, sweet Nightingale?
Melodious most deaf trees among,
Can nodding forests catch the tune?
Or rustling groves admire the song?
Why sing'st alone thy mournful tale,
And shun'st the day, sweet Nightingale?
313
Dost deem oft told the theme would fail,
Or notes oft prais'd be less admir'd?
Who could forget the mournful tale,
Or who of such a note be tir'd!
Birds waft with melody each gale,
But all seek thee, sweet Nightingale.
Or notes oft prais'd be less admir'd?
Who could forget the mournful tale,
Or who of such a note be tir'd!
Birds waft with melody each gale,
But all seek thee, sweet Nightingale.
Yet tell my fair the maxim's sure,
Joys more divided less delight;
To be pursued she need not lure,
And vulgar praise is beauty's blight.
Tell her her charms inspire the vale,
Her song like thine, sweet Nightingale.
Joys more divided less delight;
To be pursued she need not lure,
And vulgar praise is beauty's blight.
Tell her her charms inspire the vale,
Her song like thine, sweet Nightingale.
X. THE SLANDERED MAID.
Nay, let the stricken deer, poor thing!
Go weep, and sigh, and languish,
Till balmy death remove the sting
Of undeserved anguish.
Go weep, and sigh, and languish,
Till balmy death remove the sting
Of undeserved anguish.
The guileless maid with danger treads
The purest paths of joy;
Or Love for her his trammels spreads,
Or Slander's shafts destroy.
The purest paths of joy;
Or Love for her his trammels spreads,
Or Slander's shafts destroy.
Nay let the stricken deer, &c.
(Rondeau.)
314
And let the stricken maid go weep
Remote from every eye;
With sainted spirits vigils keep,
And wait her hour to die.
Remote from every eye;
With sainted spirits vigils keep,
And wait her hour to die.
Nay, let the stricken deer, &c.
(Rondeau.)
XI. LOVE AND GLORY.
The trumpet calls to war's alarms!
Such sounds the dauntless bosom fires,
The youth who loves must gain by arms
The bliss his ardent soul desires.
When ruddy conquest proudly shines,
Happy the day to him shall prove:
The laurel Love for Glory twines,
And Glory gives its charm to Love.
Such sounds the dauntless bosom fires,
The youth who loves must gain by arms
The bliss his ardent soul desires.
When ruddy conquest proudly shines,
Happy the day to him shall prove:
The laurel Love for Glory twines,
And Glory gives its charm to Love.
Oft the fond youth to Love a slave
In vain a passion would inspire;
But they who never shun the brave
Soon learn to love whom they admire.
A hero reaps in honour's fields
A charm the fair one's heart to move;
And beauty oft to Glory yields
The triumph it denies to Love.
In vain a passion would inspire;
But they who never shun the brave
Soon learn to love whom they admire.
A hero reaps in honour's fields
A charm the fair one's heart to move;
And beauty oft to Glory yields
The triumph it denies to Love.
315
Come Love! come Glory! time conspires;
Together weave our fate on high:
Hearts teeming with your sacred fires
Oh! give to triumph or to die.
Oh! let us death with honour find,
Or, living, smiles from beauty prove!
Thy myrtle, Love, round Glory bind,
And, Glory, live thy palm to Love.
Together weave our fate on high:
Hearts teeming with your sacred fires
Oh! give to triumph or to die.
Oh! let us death with honour find,
Or, living, smiles from beauty prove!
Thy myrtle, Love, round Glory bind,
And, Glory, live thy palm to Love.
XII. ALINE'S COMPLAINT.
A BALLAD FROM THE SIEGE OF ROCHELLE.
By river-bank, or hillock-rise,
Fair Aline wanders long;
And ever and anon she sighs,
And sings her plaintive song:—
“And what's the name of wife to me?
Or what a mother's joy?
No husband's cheering smile I see,
No father clasps my boy.
Fair Aline wanders long;
And ever and anon she sighs,
And sings her plaintive song:—
“And what's the name of wife to me?
Or what a mother's joy?
No husband's cheering smile I see,
No father clasps my boy.
“Ere well that I could call him mine,
Our nuptial knot scarce tied,
He left me lonely here to pine,
A sad, forsaken bride.
Why did he vow a lasting love,
Yet give his heart to gold;
Far, far in search of wealth to rove,
O'er fearful billows roll'd?
Our nuptial knot scarce tied,
He left me lonely here to pine,
A sad, forsaken bride.
316
Yet give his heart to gold;
Far, far in search of wealth to rove,
O'er fearful billows roll'd?
“O happy day that made thee mine,
Uniting love so true!
O mournful day that made me thine,
To bid a long adieu!
While yet the sprightly dance and lay
We hear upon the plain,
The seaman's signal bids away—
My husband ploughs the main.
Uniting love so true!
O mournful day that made me thine,
To bid a long adieu!
While yet the sprightly dance and lay
We hear upon the plain,
The seaman's signal bids away—
My husband ploughs the main.
“What dazzling scheme or magic shore
Could tempt thee thus to roam,
Preferring dangers, dross, and ore,
To happiness at home?
What envious hope's alluring lie
Impell'd thee hence to run?
To thee unknown a mother I,
And born unseen thy son.
Could tempt thee thus to roam,
Preferring dangers, dross, and ore,
To happiness at home?
What envious hope's alluring lie
Impell'd thee hence to run?
To thee unknown a mother I,
And born unseen thy son.
“This lovely boy renews my pangs,
And seems to share them too:
While round me thus he crying hangs,
He calls, my Love, on you,
Can India's wealth my tears repay,
Or ease one anxious fear?
O! then return; chase gloom away,
And seek your treasures here.”
And seems to share them too:
While round me thus he crying hangs,
He calls, my Love, on you,
317
Or ease one anxious fear?
O! then return; chase gloom away,
And seek your treasures here.”
XIII. A BALLAD.
[Far o'er the Western ocean]
Far o'er the Western ocean,
Whose billows touch the sky,
Whose fearful, troubled motion
Calls forth my deepest sigh;
Far o'er that ocean taken,
My love's beyond the sea,
But though by sorrow shaken,
He'll come again to me.
Whose billows touch the sky,
Whose fearful, troubled motion
Calls forth my deepest sigh;
Far o'er that ocean taken,
My love's beyond the sea,
But though by sorrow shaken,
He'll come again to me.
Some say that I'm deserted,
They flout, and jeer, and scorn;
And Slander's hounds are started,
Because I am forlorn:
That I am not forsaken
He'll make them blush to see;
And though by sorrow shaken,
He'll come again to me.
They flout, and jeer, and scorn;
And Slander's hounds are started,
Because I am forlorn:
That I am not forsaken
He'll make them blush to see;
And though by sorrow shaken,
He'll come again to me.
318
I weep not at distresses,
That heavenly lore impart;
For while misfortune presses,
We learn to mend the heart:
I weep that he is taken
Beyond the stormy sea;
My children seem forsaken,
But he'll come back to me.
That heavenly lore impart;
For while misfortune presses,
We learn to mend the heart:
I weep that he is taken
Beyond the stormy sea;
My children seem forsaken,
But he'll come back to me.
And through life's stormy weather,
That chastens from above,
We'll twine our hearts together,
A family of love!
We'll praise the Power that chastens,
And bend to Him the knee,
Who rules the wind that hastens
To waft him back to me.
That chastens from above,
We'll twine our hearts together,
A family of love!
We'll praise the Power that chastens,
And bend to Him the knee,
Who rules the wind that hastens
To waft him back to me.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
| The miscellaneous works and novels of R. C. Dallas | |