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One for the New YBAR, Written by William WHITBHEAD, Eja:

Poet Laureat.

AND dares insulting France pretend

To grasp the Trident of the Main,
And hope the astonish'd World should bend

To the mock pageantry assum'd in vain?
What, though her feets the billows load,

What, though her mimic thunders roar,
She bears the enligns of the God,

But not bis delegated power.
Even from the birth of Time, 'was Heaven's decree,
The Queen of Iles should reign sole empress of the sea.
United Bourbon's giant pride
· Strains every nerve, each effort tries,
With all but Justice on its fide,

That Strength can give, or Perfidy devise.
Dread they not Him who rules the sky,

Whose nod directs the whirlwind's speed,
Who bears his red right arm on high

For vengeance on the perjur'd heads
Th' Almighty Power, by whose augu& decree
The Queen of Ifes alone is sovereign of the sea
Vain-glorious France ! deluded Spain !
Whom ev'n experience warns in vain,
Is there a sea, that dashing pours
Its big waves round your trembling lhores;
Is there a Promontory's brow
That does not Britain's vaft atchievements know?
Ask Biscay's rolling food,

Ak the proud Celtic steep,
How oft her navies rode

Triumphant o'er the deep?
Ak Lagos' summits that beheld your fate;

Ak Calpes' jutring front, fair cause of endless hate.

Yet; Yet, 'midit the loudest blasts of Fame,

When most the admiring nations gaze,
What to berself does Britain claim?

---Not to herself she gives the praise,
But low in duft her head the bows,

And prostrate pays her grateful vows To Him, the Almighty Pow'r, by whose decree She reigns, and fill thall reign, sole empress of the sea.

- Ode for his Mlajesty's Birth-Day. By the fame.

TILL o'er the deep does Britain reign, D Her monarch still the trident bears:

Vain-glorious France, deluded Spain, Have found their boasted efforts vain; Vain as the fleeting shades when orient light appears. As the young eagle to the blaze of day

Undazzled, and anđaunted turns his eyes; · So unappalld, where glory led the way,

'Midlt storms of war, 'midit mingling seas and skies,
The genuine offspring of the Brunswick name
Prov'd his high birth's hereditary claim,
And the applauding nation hail'd for joy
Their future hero in the intrepid boy.

Prophetic as the flames that spread
Round the yourg lulus' head,
Ee that bleft omen of success; the More
Catches thence ecstatic views,
Sees new laurels nobly won,'
As the circling year 'rolls on.
Sees that triumphs of its own
Each distinguish'd month shall crown;
And ere this felive day again
Returns to take the grateful strain,
Sees all that holt of foes,

Both to her glory and repore,
Bend their proud necks beneath Britannia's yoke,
And court that peace which their injustice broke.
Still o'er the deep shall Britain reign,

Her monarch fill the trident bear;
The warring world is leagu'd in vain

To conquer those who know pot fear. Grasp'd be the spear by ev'ry hand,

Let ev'ry heart united glow; Collected, like the Theban band, · Can Britain dread a foc ?

No, o'er the deep she still shall reign,

Her monarch still the trident bear; The warring world is leagu'd in vain

To conquer those who know not fear.

From an Elegy on the Death of Capt. Cook, by Miss Seward.

V E, who ere while for Cook's illustrious brow

I Pluck'd the green laurel, and the oaken bough,
Hung the gay garlands on the trophied oars,
And pour'd his fame along a thousand shores,
Strike the now death-bell!- weave the sacred verse,
And strew the cypress o'er his honour'd hearse;
In sad procession wander round the shrine,
And weep him mortal, whom ye sung divine !

Say firit, what Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast
With scorn of danger, and inglorious rest,
To quit imperial Lordon's gorgeous plains,
Where, rob’d in thousand tints, bright Pleasure reigns;
lo cups of summer-ice her nectar pours,
And twines, 'mid wintry (nows, her roseate bow'rs?
Where Beauty moves with undulating grace,
Calls the sweet blolh to wanton o'er her face,
On each fond Youth her soft artillery tries,
Aims her light smile, and rolls her frolic eyes ? .

What Pow'r inspir'd his dauntless breast to brave
The scorch'd Equator, and th' Antarctic wave!
Climes, where fierce suns with cloudless ardour shine,
And pour the dazzling deluge round the Line;
The realms of froft, where icy mountains rise,
'Mid che pale summer of the polar skies?
It was HUMANITY!-on coasts unknown,
The shiv'ring natives of the frozen zone, ''
And the swart Indian, as he faintly strays .
" Where Cancer reddens in the solar blaze,"
She bade him seek ;-on each inclement shore
Plant the rich seeds of her exhaustless store,
Unite the favage hearts, and hostile hands,
In the firm compact of her genile bands;
Strew her soft comforts o'er the barren plain,
Sing her sweet lays, and consecrale her fane.

IT WAS HUMANITY!-O Nymph divine !
I see thy light step print the burning Line!
There thy bright eye the dubious pilot guides,
The faint oar struggling with the scalding tides.
On as thou lead' It the bold, the glorious prow,
Mild, and more mild, the Noping sun-beams glow;

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Now weak and pale the lessen'd luftres play,
As roand th' horizon rolls the timid day;
Barb'd with the fleeted now, the driving hail,
Rush the fierce arrows of the polar gale;
And thro' the dim, unvaried, ling’ring hours,
Wide o'er the waves incumbent horror low'rs.

And now antarctic Zealand's drear domain
Frowns, and o'erhangs th’in hospitable main.
On it's chill beach this dove of human kind
For his long-wandering foot Bort reft shall find,
Béar to the coast the * olive branch in vain,
And quit on wearied wing the hottile plain.
With jealous low'r the frowning natives view

The stately vessel, and th' advent'rous crew;
Nor fear the brave, nor emulaie the good,
But scowl with savage thirst of human blood !

And yet there were, who in this iron clime
Soar'd o'er the herd on Virtue's wing sublime:
Rever'd the stranger-guest, and smiling Atrove
To soothe his stay with hospitable love;
Fann'd in full confidence the friendly flame,
Join'd plighted hands, and + name exchang'd for name,
To thele the hero leads his living store,
And pours new wonders on th' uncultur'd shore ;
The filky fleece, fair fruit, and golden grain ;
And future herds and harveits bless the plain.
O'er the green soil his Kids exulting play,
And sounds his clarion loud the Bird of day;
The downy Goose her ruffled bosom laves,
Trims her white wing; and wantons in the waves ;
Stern moves the Bull along th' affrighted shores,
And countlefs nations tremble as he roars.

Now the warm solstice o'er the shining bay,
Darts from the north its mild meridian ray:
Again the Chief invokes the rising gale,
And spreads again in desart seas the sail ;

* The dive-branch.--" To carry a green branch in the hand on landing, is a pacific fignal, univerfally understood by all the islanders in the South


And name exchang'd. The exchange of names is a pledge of amicy among these iflanders, and was frequently proposed by them to Captain Cook and his people; fo allo is the joining noses.

His living flore.-Captain Cook left various kinds of animals upon this coast, together with garden-seeds, &c. The Zealanders had hitherto fubfifted upon fith, and such coarse vegetables as their climate produced ; and this want of better provisions, it is fupposed, induced them to che horrid practice of cating human fileth


O'er dangerous shoals his steady steerage keeps, .
O'er * walls of coral, ambulh'd in the deeps;
Strong Labour's hands che crackling cordage twine,
And 7 sleepless Patience heaves the founding. line.

'Εις οιωνος αριςος αμύνεσθαι περι παιρης.

On ibe Love of our Country. Spoken in the Theatre as the Prize Poem as

Oxford, 1772. By the Rev. Christopher Butson.

V E souls illustrious, who in days of yore

( With peerlefs might the British target bore,
Who clad in wolf-kin from the scythed car,
Frown'd on the iron brow of majled war,
And dar'd vour rudely-painted limbs oppose
To Chalybean steel and Roman foes!

And ye of later age, tho' not less fame
In Tilt and Tournament, the princely game
Of Arthur's barons, wont by hardiest sport
To claim the fairest guerdon of the court;
Say, holy Shades, did e'er your generous blood
Roll thro'your faithful fons in nobler flood,
Than late, when George bade gird on every thigh
The myrtle-braided (word of liberty?

Say, when the high-born Druids magic strain
Rous'd on old Mona's top a female train
To Madness, and with more than mortal rage
Bade them, like furies, in the fight engage,
Frantic when each unbound her briAling hair,
And shook a fiaming torch, and yell’d in wild despair;
Or when on 'Crelly's field the fable might
Of Edrvard dar'd four monarchs to the fight;
Say, holy Shades, did patriotic heat
In your big hearts with quicker transports beat;
Than in your sons, when torth, like storms, they pour'd
In Freedom's cause the fury of the sword;
Who rul'd the main, or gallant armies led,
With Hawke, who conquer'd, or with Wolfe, who bled?

Poor is his triumph, and disgrac'd his name,
Who draws the sword for empire, wealth, or fame;

* Walls of coral.-The coral rocks are described as rising perpendicularly from the greatest depths of the ocean, insomuch that the founding-line could not reach their bottom; and yet they were but just covered with water. These rocks are now found to be fabricated by sea-insects.

And Meepless Patience." We had now pafied feveral months with a man constantly in the chains heaving the lead."


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