My former lays2, of rough contents, Your deaf, your late-obstructed ear, Have I not heard you both declare, Your hearts detest the purple war, And melt in anguish for the world's repose? Hail, then! all hail! your wish is crown'd, Your godlike zeal through time renown'd, Through Europe bless'd, with joy her heart o'er[flows. Your friend, your brother of the North, To meet your arms comes smiling forth, And leads soft-handed Peace: how powerful he! His numerous race, the blossoms bright Of golden empire, radiant sight! Endless beam on into eternity. What long allies!—the virgin train The mother breathed soft air, and bloom divine. How fair the field! ye' Aönian bees 3 2 The foregoing stanzas. 3 Poets. E'en mine they taste, and with success: No: by the blood of Blenheim's plain The wise Iberian is the friend of peace. Yet, lest I fail (for prophets old We set our naval terrors in array. Know, Britons! an Augustus reigns; O, could I sing, as you have fought, Bright as the sun!-How you burn at my heart! Soul-rising resound! Swift drawn from the thigh, How the swords flame on high! How the cannon's deep knell Fates of kingdoms foretell! How to battle, to battle, our brave fathers part, How to battle, to conquest, to triumph, we dart! But who gives conquest? He whose ray To darkness turns the blaze of day; Whose boundless favour far outflows the main ; Whose power the raging waves can still, And curb more rebel human will With peace, O bless us! or in war sustain. Dost thou sustain?-Ye twinkling fry! That swim the seas, glide gently by; Though your scales glitter, though your numbers Ah! gently glide, for life's dear sake, [swarm, Nor dare leviathan awake, Who spouts a river, and who breathes a storm. And now, who censures this address? Thus crowns, states, common men, make peace; They swell, sooth, double, dive, swear, pray, defy; And when rank Interest has prevail'd, And Artifice the treaty seal'd, Stark Love and Conscience own the bastard tie. Ambassadors! ye mouths of kings! What though the Muse your province proudly 'Tis a reprisal fairly made, Her province you long since invade, Ye perfect poets! in the vale of prose. [chose? More safe, O Muse! that humble vale, Than the proud surge and stormy gale: Thy dangerous seas with wrecks are cover'd o'er: Dulness and frenzy curse thy streams, Rocks, infamous for murder'd names! O! strike thy swelling sails, and make to shore. While warmer climes, in cooler strains, The bleeding horse and horseman hurl to ground; 'Tis mine to sing, and sing the first, That mighty shock, that dreadful burst Of war, which bellows through the seas' profound. Nor mean the song, or great my blame; When such the patrons, such the theme, Who might not glow, soar, paint, with rage divine? Truth, simple Truth, I proudly dress'd In Fancy's robe, her flowery vest Dipp'd in the curious colours of the Nine. But, ah! 'tis pass'd; I sink; I faint; My vocal shell! which Thetis form'd Ere Pæan silver chords bestow'd; My shell! which Clio gave, which kings applaud, Which Europe's bleeding Genius call'd abroad, Adieu, pacific lyre! my laurel'd thrones! adieu. Hear, Atticus! your sailor's song: I sing, I live for you. RESIGNATION. IN TWO PARTS, AND A POSTSCRIPT. To Mrs. Boscawen1. My soul shall be satisfied, even as it were with marrow and fatness; when my mouth praiseth thee with joyful lips. Psalm lxiii. 6, PART I. THE days how few, how short the years, Of man's too rapid race! Each leaving, as it swiftly flies, A shorter in its place! They who the longest lease enjoy, Have told us with a sigh, That to be born seems little more Than to begin to die. Numbers there are who feel this truth With fears alarm'd; and yet, In life's delusions lull'd asleep, 1 The widow of Admiral Boscawen. |