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Raised by thy hands, and fashion'd to thy will, Britain, beware; nor let th' insidious foe, Thy power, thy guiding influence governs of force despairing, aim a deadlier blow.
Thy peace, thy strength, with devilish wiles Where at the blood-stain’d board expert he
And wben her arms are vain, by arts prevail. The lame artificer of fraud and lies; True, thou art rich, art powerful !-through He with the mitred head, and cloven heel :-
thine isle Doom'd the coarse edge of Rewbell's jests Industrious skill, contented labour, smile;
Far seas are studded with thy countless sails; To stand the playful buffet, and to hear What wind but wafts them, and what shore The frequent ink-stand whizzing past his ear;
but hails? While all the five directors laugh to see | True, thou art brave !-o'er all the busy land The limping priest so deft at his new In patriot ranks embattled myriads stand;
Thy foer behold with impotent amaze,
And drop the lifted weapon as they gaze! Last of th' anointed five behold, and least. But what avails to guard each outward part, The directorial lama, sovereign priest,
| If subtlest poison, circling at thy heart, Lepaux:-- whom atheists worship;-at whose Spite of thy courage.osthy power, and wealth,
Mine the sound fabric of thy vital health? Bow their meek heads the men without a god.
So thine own oak, by some fair streamlet's Ere long, perhaps, to this astonishid isle,
side, Fresh from the shores of subjugated Nile, Waves its broad arms, and spreads its leafy Shall Buonaparte's victor fleet protect
pride, The genuine theophilanthropic sect,-- Towers from the earth, and, rearing to the The sect of Marat, Mirabenu, Voltaire,
skies Led by their pontiff, good La Reveillère. Its conscious strength, the tempest's wrath Rejoiced our clubs shall greet bim, and instal
defies. The holy bunch-back in thy dome, St. Paul! Its ample branches shield the fowls of air, While countless votaries thronging in his to its cool shade the panting herde repair.
The treacherous current works its noiseless Wave their red caps, and hymn this jocund
way, strain :
The fibres loosen, and the roots decay; "Couriers and Stars, sedition's evening-host, Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all Thou Morning-Chronicle, and Morning-Post! That shared its shelter, perish in its fall. Whether ye make the rights of man your
theme, Your country libel, and your God blaspheme, 0 thou! lamented sage!- whose prescient Or dirt on private worth and virtue throw, Still blasphemous or blackgaard, praise Pierced through foul anarchy's gigantic plan,
Prompt to incredulous hearers to disclose And ye five other wandering bards that move The guilt of France, and Europe's world In sweet accord of harmony and love,
of woes;Coleridge and Southey, Lloyd, and Lamb Thou. 'on whose name posterity shall gaze,
The mighty sea-mark of these troubled days! Tune all your mystic harps to praise Lepaux. o large of soul, of genius unconfined, Priestley, and Whitefield, humble, holy men, Born to delight, instruct, and mend manGive praises to his name with tongue and pen! Thelwal, and ye that lecture as ye go, Burke! in whose breast a Roman ardour And for your pains get pelted, praise Lepaux!
glow'd ; Praise him each jacobin, or fool, or knave, Whose copious tongue with Grecian richness And your cropped heads in sign of worship
Well hast thou found (if such thy country's All rrerping creatures, venomous and low,
doom) Paine, Williams, Godwin, Holcrost, praise A timely refuge in the sheltering tomb !
As, in far realme, where eastern kings are laid, And thou, leviathan! on ocean's brim
In pomp of death, beneath the cypresr-shade, Hugest of living things that sleep and swim; The perfumed lamp with unextinguish'd light Thou in whose nose by Burke's gigantic hand Flames through the vault, and cheers the The hook was fix'd to drag thee to the land,
• gloom of night: With-,--and-in thy train,
So, mighty Burke! in thy sepulchral urn, And-wallowing in the yeasty main
To fancy's view, the lamp of truth shall burn. Stillas ye enort, and puff, and spont, and blow. Thither late times shall turn their reverent In puffing, and in spouting, praise Lepaur!
eyen, Led by thy light, and by ihy windom wise.
There are, to whom (their taste such plea- The sword we drcad not:-of ourselres sures cloy)
secure, No light thy wisdom yielde, thy wit no joy; Firm were our strength, our peace and Peace to their heavy heads,and callous hearts,
freedom sure. Peace-such as sloth, as ignorance imparts! - Let all the world confederate all its power Pleased may they live to plan their country's Be they not back'd by those that should
be ours, And crop with calm content their flowery food! High on his rock shall Britain's genias stand,
Scatter the crowded hosts, and vindicate What though thy venturous spirit loved
the land. to urge The labouring theme to reason's utmost Guard we but our own hearts: with verge,
constant view, Kindling and mounting from th' enraptured To ancient morals, ancient manners true,
True to the manlier virtues, such as nerved Till anxious Wonder watch'd thy daring Our fathers' breasts, and this proud isle flight!
preserved While vulgar souls, with mean malignant For many a rugged age:-and scorn the stare,
while Gazed up, the triumph of thy fall to share! Each philosophic atheist's specious guilePoor triumph! price of that extorted praise, The soft seductions, the refinements nice, Which still to daring genius envy pays. of gay morality, and easy vice:
So shall we brave the storm ;-our 'stablishd Oh! for thy playful smile,--thy potent
Thy refuge, Europe, in some happier hour.T'abash bold vice, and laugh pert folly down! But, French in heart-though victory crown So should the Muse, in humour's happiest
our brow, vein,
Lowat our feet though prostrate nations bow. With verse that flow'd in metaphoric strain, Wealth gild our cities, commerce crowd our And apt allusions to the rural trade,
shore, Tell of what wood young jacobins are made; London may shine, bat England is no more How the skill'd gardener grafts, with nicest
rule, The slip of coxcomb on the stock of fool;--Forth in bright blossom bursts the tender sprig,
THE SLAVERY OF GREECE. A thing to wonder at-perhaps a whig.Should tell, how wise each half-fledged pedant
(1787.) prates of weightiest matters, grave distinctions UNRIVALL'D Greece! thon ever-honoured states
name, That rules of policy, and public good, Thou nurse of heroes dear to deathless fame In Saxon times were rightly understood; Though now to worth, to honourall unknow That kings are proper, may be useful things, Thy lustre faded, and thy glories flown. But then some gentlemen object to kings; Yet still shall memory with reverted eye That in all times the niinister's to blame; Trace thy past worth, and view thee with That British liberty's an empty name, Till each fair burgh, numerically free, Shall choose its members by the rule of three. Thee freedom cherish'd once with foster
ing band, So should the Muse, with verse in thunder And breathed undaunted valour through the clothed,
land. Proclaim the crimes by God and nature Here the stern spirit of the Spartan soil,
| The child of poverty inured to toil. Which- when fell poison revels in the Here, loved by Pallas and the sacred Xipe.
Once did fair Athens' towery glories shime (That poison fell which frantic Gallia drains To bend the bow, or the bright falchion Field. From the crude fruit of freedom's blasted To lift the bulwark of the brazen shield.
To toss the terror of the whizzing spear, Blot the fair records of humanity.
The conquering standard's glittering glories
rear, To feebler nations let proud France afford And join the maddening battle's loud carrer Her damning choice, the chalice or the How skill'd the Greeks; confess what per sword,
sians slain To drink or die ;-oh, fraud! oh, specious lie! Were strew'd on Marathon's ensanguion Delusive choice! for if they drink, they die.
When heaps on heaps the routed squadrons Thy sons (sad change!) in abject bondage fell,
sigh; And with their gaudy myriads peopled hell. Unpitied toil, and unlamented die. What millions bold Leonidas withstood, Groan at the labours of the galling oar, And seal'd the Grecian freedom with his Or the dark caverns of the mine explore.
The glittering tyranny of Othman's sons, Witness Thermopylæ! how fierce he trod, The pomp of horror which surrounds their How spoke a hero, and how moved a god!
thrones, The rush of nations could alone sustain, Has awed their servile spirits into fear, While half the ravaged globe was arm'd in Spurn'd by the foot they tremble and revere.
The day of labour, night's sad, sleepless hour, Let Leuctra say, let Mantinea tell,
Th' inflictive scourge of arbitrary power, How great Epaminondas fought and fell! The bloody terror of the pointed steel, Nor war's vast art alone adorn'd thy fame, The murderous stake, the agonizing wheel, But mild philosophy endear'd thy name. | And (dreadful choice!) the bowstring, or Who knows not, sees not with admiring eye,
the bowl, How Plato thought, how Socrates could die? Dainps their faint vigour and unmans the soul.
Disastrous fate! still tears will fill the eye,
Still recollection prompt the mournful sigh; To bend the arch, to bid the column rise,
When to the mind recurs thy former fame, And the tall pile aspiring pierce the skies, The awful fone magnificently great,
And all the horrors of thy present shame. With pictured pomp to grace, and sculptured
So some tall rock, whose bare, broad bosom This science taught; on Greece each science
Towers from the earth, and braves th'inHere the bold statue started from the stone;
clement sky; Here, warm with life, the swelling canvas On whose vast top the blackening deluge glow'd;
pours, Here, big with thought, the poet's raptures At whose wide base the thundering ocean flowd:
roare; Here Homer's lip was touch'd with sacred In conscious pride its huge gigantic form
Surveys imperious and defies the storm, And wanton Sappho tuned her amorous lyre; Till worn by age, and mould'ring to decay, Here bold Tyrtæus roured th' enervate
Th'insidious waters wash its base away, throng,
It falls, and falling cleaves the trembling Awaked to glory by th' aspiring song;
ground, Here Pindar soar'd a nobler, loftier way, And spreads a tempest of destruction round. And brave Alcaeus scorn'd a tyrant's sway; Here gorgeous tragedy with great control Touch'd every feeling of th'impassion'd soul; While in soft measure tripping to the song Her comic sister lightly danced along.-
A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OP WILLIAN PITT. This was thy state! but oh! how changed
Waen, by th' Almighty's dread command And all thy glories fading into shame.
Elijah, callid from Israel's land, , What! that thy bold, thy freedom-breathing
Rose in the sacred flame, land Should
His Mantle good Elisha caught, crouch beneath a tyrant's stern And, with the Prophet's spirit fraught,
Her second hope became.
The Patriot's heart-the Prophet's mind, Thy cities mouldering, and thy walls o'er
Elijah's spirit here: thrown,
Now, sad reverse!-that spirit reft, That where once tower'd the stately solemn/No confidence, no hope is left; fane,
For no Elijah's near. Now moss-grown ruins strew the ravaged |
Is there, among the greedy band
Oxs on whom public faith can rest-
Illustrious Roscius of the state!
Thou wonder of thy age!
On Stephen's bustling stage.
Pitt's 'chequer robe 'tis thine to wear; Take of his Mantle too a share,
"Twill aid thy ways and means; And should Fat Jack, and his cabal, Cry “Rob us the Exchequer, Hal!"
'Twill charm away the fiende.
GEORGE CANNING AND JOAN SCOTT HIS
WIFB; Born April 25, 1801.—Died March 31, 1820. Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd
decrees, Which made that shorten'd span one long
disease, Yet, merciful in chastening, gave thee scope For inild, redeeming virtues, Faith and
Hope; Meek Resignation; pious Charity; And, since this world was not the world for
thee, Far from thy path removed, with partial
care, Strife, Glory, Gain, and Pleasure's flowery
snare, Bade Earth's temptations pass thee harmless
by, | And fix'd on Heaven thine unaverted eye! Oh! mark'd from birth, and nurtur'd for the
skies! In youth, with more than learning's wisdom.
wise! As sainted martyrs, patient to endure! Simple as unwcaned infancy and pure!
Sage Palinurus of the realm !
And play his proxy's part;
Hast conn'd the shipman's chart?
No !-From Pitt's Mantle tear a rag,
And hojst it on thy mast?
And rival victories past.
Pare from all stain (save that of human clay,
LOVERS' PRESENT'S. doom, Pour forth a father's sorrows on thy tomb./ Take back thy gifts, thou noble dame,
Gifts that might courtly homage claim:
And thy waist was clasp'd by this zone of MARY ANN BROWNE.
pearls; Lady, such gifts were unwish'd by me, And I loved them but as bestow'd by thee.
Pledges so splendid I could not impart,
My poor return was a faithful heart;
Lady, how sad an exchange is mine!
Thy glittering gems are still gay and bright, And sing thy bridal song;
And may charm a high-born lover's sight,
But the humblest maid will sparn a token
A. that bright garland will decay,
Tby beauty will soon be gone; And thy very name will pass away,
Like thy sweet song's closing tone.
Ay, deck thee with that golden chain,
It nevers with scarce a touch;
And thou wilt be as such:
Ar Cheltenham, where one drinks one's fill
Of folly and cold water,
With old Sir Geoffrey's daughter.
When Summer's rose is newest;
When Autumn's sky in bluest;
of Life's most precious flowers,
And half were of its Showerg.
And mingle with the thoughtless crowd,
And don thy gorgeous vert: "Twill soon be changed, for thy burial shroud
Already wraps thy breast.
Bright and clear the heavens are,
There is but one speck in the sky; But that speck covers thy natal star,
The star of thy destiny!
I gazed on that star last night,-it shook ;
And though it still faintly gleams, It looks not as it was wont to look,
And a mist is over its beams.
I have read thy fate in a flowery braid ;
I hung it on a tree-
"Twas the blossom I named for thee!
But mostly thy fortune I can tell,
From thy happiness and mirth, For when did bliss so perfect dwell More than an instant on earth?
I talk.d of Music's gorgeous fane;
I raved about Rossini,
And criticised Pacini;
The trumpets more pacific,
And voted Panl terrific.