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Tis continence of mind, unknown before,
1. THE BRITISH SAILOR'S EXULTATION. Next to the godlike praise of writing well,
II. HIS PRAYER BEFORE ENGAGEMENT.
TO MR. VOLTAIRE.
My Muse, a bird of passage, flies An age, which had not held its pride so long,
From frozen clime to milder skies; But for the want of so complete a song.
From chilling blasts she seeks thy checring beam, A golden period shall from you commence:
A beam of favour, here denied ; Peace shall be sign'd 'twixt wit and manly sense ;
Conscious of faults, her blushing pride Whether your genius or your rank they view,
Hopes an asylum in so great a name. The Muses find their Halifax in you.
To dive full deep in ancient days',
The warriors' ardent deeds to raise,
bine is the drama, how renown'd! Which tempt the great to fall in love with cares. *Thine, epic's loftier truinp to sound;
But let Arion's sea-strung harp be mine: I would proceed, but age has chill'd my vein, 'T was a short fever, and I'm cool again.
But where's his dolphin? Know'st thou, where? Though life I hate, methinks I could renew
May that be found in thee, Voltaire ! Its tasteless, painful course, to sing of you.
Save then from harm my plunge into the wave: When such the subject, who shall curb his flight? How will thy name illustrious raise When such your genius, who shall dare to write ? My sinking song! Mere mortal lays, In pure respect, I give my rhyming o'er,
So patronis'd, are rescued from the grave. And, to commend you most, commend no more.
“Tell me,"say'st thou, "who courts my smile? Adieu, whoe'er thou art! on death's pale coast
What stranger stray'd from yonder isle!" Ere long I'll talk thee o'er with Dryden's ghost;
No stranger, sir! though born in foreign climes; The bard will smile. A last, a long farewell!
On Corset downs, when Milton's page, Henceforth I hide me in my dusky cell ;
With Sin and Death, provok'd thy rage, There wait the friendly stroke that sets me free,
Thy rage provok'd, who sooth'd with gentle And think of iinmortality and thee
rhyines? My strains are number'd by the tuneful Nine:
Who kindly couch'd thy censure's eye, Each maid presents her thanks, and all present thee
And gave thce clearly to descry mine.
Sound judginent giving law to fancy strong ?
Il'ho balf inclin'd thee to confess,
Nor could thy modesty do less,
That Milton's blindness lay not in his song ?
But sich debates long since are fluwn;
For ever set the suns that shone
How shortly shall we buth forget,
To thee, my patron. I my debt, Take what friendship can impart,
And thou to thine for Prussia's golden key! Tribute of a feeling heart;
The present, in oblivion cast, Take the Muse's latest spark?,
Full soon shall sleep, as sleeps the past; Ere we drop into the dark.
Full soon the wide distinction die between Hle, who parts and virtue gave,
The frowns and favours of the great; Bad the look beyond the grave:
lligh Rush'd success, and pale defeat; Genius soars, and virtue guides;
The Gallic gaiety, and British spleen. Above, the love of God presides.
Ye wing'd, ye rapid moments! stay ! There's a gulf 'twixt us and God;
Oh friend ! as deaf as rapid, they; Let the gloomy path be trod :
Life's little drama done, the curtain falls ! Why stand shivering on the shore ?
Dost thou not hear it? I can hear, Why not boldly venture o'er?
Though nothing strikes the listening ear; Where unerring virtue guides, Let us have the winds and tides :
Time groans his last ! Eternal loudly calls ! Safe, through seas of doubts and fears,
Nor calls in vain; the call inspires Rides the bark which Virtue steers.
Far other counsels and desires,
Than once prevail'd; we stand on higher ground; "A Poetical Epistle from the late lord Melcombe What scenes we see !-Exalted aim ! to the earl of Bute, with corrections by the au- With ardours new, our spirits flame; thor of the Night Thoughts, was published in 4to, Ambition blest! with more than laureis crown'd. 1776. See Mr. Cust's Lise of Young.
"Annals of the emperor Charles XII. Lewis XIV,
ODE THE FIRST.
From the dread front of ancient war
Less terrour frown'd; her scythed car, THE BRITISH SAILOR'S EXULTATION.
Her castled elephant, and battering beam, In lofty sounds let those delight
Stoop to those engines which deny Who brave the fue, but fear the fight;
Superior terrours to the sky, And, bold in word, of arms decline the stroke : And boast their clouds, their thunder, and their 'Tis mean to boast; but great to lend
flame. To focs the counsel of a friend,
The fame, the thunder, and the cloud, And warn them of the vengeance they provoke.
The night by day, the sea of blood, From wbence arise these loud alarms? Hosts whirl'd in air, the yell of sinking throngs,
Why gicams the south with brandish'd armis ? The graveless dead, an ocean warm'd, War, bath'd in blood, from curst ambition springs : A firmament by mortais storm'd, Ambition! mean, ignoble pride!
To patient Britain's angry brows belongs. Perhaps their ardoors may subside,
Or do I dream? Or do I rave? When weigh'd ihe wonders Britaiu's sailor sings.
Or see [ Vulcan's sooty cave, Hear, and revere.-At Britain's pod,
Where Jove's red bolts the giant brothers frame? From each enchanted grove and wood
Those swarthy gods of toil and heat Hastes the huge oak, or shareless forest leaves ;
Lond peals on mountain anvils beat, The mountain pines assume new forins,
And panting tempests rouse the roaring flame. Spread canvass-wings, and Ay through storms, And ride o'er rucks, and dance on foaming waves.
Ye sons of Etna! hear my call;
l'nfinish'd let those baubles fall, She nods again : the labouring Earth
Yon shield of Mars, Minerva's helmet blue : Discloses a tremendous birth;
Your strokes suspend, ye brawny throng! In smoking rivers runs her molten ore;
Charm'd by the magic of my song, Thence monsters of enormous size,
Drop the feign'd thunder, and attempt the true. And hideous aspect, threatening rise, Flame from the deck, from treinbling bastions roar. Begin: and first take rapid flight3, These ministers of fate fulfil,
Fierce flame, and clouds of thickest night, On empires wide, an island's will, (powers ! | And ghostly terrour, paler than the dead; When thrones unjust wake vengeance: know, ye
Then borrow from the north his roar, In sudden night, and ponderons balls,
Mix groans and deaths; one phial pour And foods of fame, the tempest falls,
Of wrong'd Britannia's wiath ; and it is made ; When brav'd Britannia's awful senate lowers. Gaul starts and trembles-at your dreadful trade
In her grand council? she surveys,
In patriot picture, what may raise, Of insolent attempts, a warm disdain ;
ODE THE SECOND: From hope's triumphant summit thrown,
Like darted lightning, swiftly down The wealth of Ind, and contidence of Spain.
SAILOR'S PRAYER BEFORE ENGAGEMENT, Britannia sheaths her courage keen,
So form’d the bolt, ordain'd to break And spares her nitrous magazine;
Gaul's hanghty plan, and Bourbon shake; Her cannon slumber, till the proud aspire,
If Britain's crimes support not Britain's foes, And leave all law below them; then they blaze! And edge their swords : O power divine ! They thunder from resounding seas,
If blest by thee the bold design, Touch'd by their injur'd master's soul of fire. Embattled hosts a single arın o'erthrows. Then furies rise! the battle raves!
Ye warlike dead, who fell of old And rends the skies! and warms the waves !
In Britain's cause, by fame enrollid And calls a tempest from the peaceful deep, In deathless annal! deathless deeds inspire; In spite of Nature, spite of Jore,
From oozy beds, for Britain's sake,
Awake, illustrious chiefs ! awake;
The day commission'd from above,
Our worth to weigh, our hearts to prove, Chaiu’d, g!.wing globes, in dread alliance join'd,
If war's full shock too feeble to sustain ;
Or firm to stand its final blow,
That day 's arriv'd, that fatal hour! -
“ Hear us, o hear, Almighty Power ! There war's whole sting is shot, whole fire is spent,
Our guide in counsel, and our strength in fight! Whole glory blooms: how pnle, how tame,
Now war's important die is thrown,
If left the day to man alone, How lambent is Bellona's fame!
How blind is wisdom, and how weak is might ! How her storms languish on the continent!
IN WHICH IS THE
- House of lords.
3 Alluding to Virgil's description of thunder.
" Let prostrate hearts, and awful fear,
A NAVAL LYRIC:
WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF PINDAR'S SPIRIT. Than angry Nature's wasteful war,
Occasioned by His Majesty's Return, September 1729, The whirl of tempests, and the roar of seas.
and the succeeding Peace. “ From out the deep, to thee we cry, To thee, at Nature's helm on high !
Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres Steer thou ous conduct, dread Omnipotence !
Quem super notas aluere ripas, To thee for succour we resort;
Fervet, immensusque ruit profundo. Thy favour is our only port;
PIND. Our only rock of safety, thy defence.
Concines lætosque dies, & urbis “O thou, to whom the lions roar,
Publicum ludum, super impetrato
Thou canst arrest the flying ball ;
A Pindaric carries a formidable sound; but there Onthose, from whose proud deck the thunder broke. is nothing formidable in the true nature of it; of
which (with utmost submission) I conceive the cri“ Britain in vain extends her care
tics have hitherto entertained a false idea. Pindar To climes ' remote, for aids in war;
is as natural as Anacreon, though not so familiar. Still farther must it stretch to crush the foe; As a fixt star is as much in the bounds of Nature, There's one alliance, one alone,
as a flower of the field, though less obvious, and of Can crown her arms, or fix her throne; greater dignity. This is not the received notion of And that alliance is not found below.
Pindar; I shall therefore soon support at large that
hint which is now given. “ Ally Supreme! we turn to thee; We learn obedience from the sea ;
Trade is a very noble subject in itself; more proWith seas, and winds, henceforth, thy laws fulfil : per than any for an Englishman; and particularly 'Tis thine our blood to freeze, or warm ;
seasonable at this juncture. To ronse, or hush, the martial storm ;
We have more specimens of good writing in every And turn the tide of conquest, at thy will.
province, than in the sublime ; our two famous epic
poems excepted. I was willing to make an attempt “YT is tbine to beam sublime renown,
where I had fewest rivals. Or quench the glories of a crown;
If, on reading this ode, any man has a fuller idea 'T is thine to doom, 't is thine, from death to free; of the real interest, or possible glory of his country, To turn aside his level'd dart,
than before ; or a stronger impression from it, or a Or pluck it from the bleeding heart:
warmer concern for it, I give up to the critic any There we cast anchor, we confide in thee.
We have many copies and translations that pass " Thou, who hast taught the north to roar, for originals. This ode I humbly conceive is an
And streaming lights nocturnal pour ?, original, though it professes imitation. No man Of frightful aspect! when proud foes invade, can be like Pindar, by imitating any of his parti
Their blasted pride with dread to seize, cular works;any more than like Raphael, by copying Bid Britain's flags, as meteors, blaze;
the cartoons. The genius and spirit of such great And George depute to thunder in thy stead. men must be collected from the whole ; and when
thus we are possessed of it, we must exert its “The right alone is bold and strong ;
energy in subjects and designs of our own. Nothing Black, hovering clouds appal the wrong
is so unpindarical as following Pindar on the foot. With dread of vengeance: Nature's awful sire!
Pindar is an original, and he must be so too, who Less than one moment shouldst thou frown,
would be like Pindar in that which is his greatest Where is puissance and renown?
praise. Nothing so unlike as a close copy, and a Thrones tremble, empires sink, or worlds expire, noble original. “ Let George the just chastise the rain :
As for length, Pindar has an unbroken ode of six Thou, who durst curb the rebel main,
hundred lines. Nothing is long or short in writing, To mount the shore when boiling billows rave !
but relatively to the demand of the subject, and Bid George repel a bolder tide,
the manner of treating it, A distich may be long, The boundless swell of Gallic pride;
and a folio short. However, I have broken this ode And check ambition's overwhelming wave.
into Strains, each of which may be considered as
a separate ode if you please. And if the variety “ And when (all milder means withstood) and fullness of matter be considered, I am rather Ambilion, tam'd by loss of blood,
apprehensive of danger from brevily in this ode, Regains her reason; then, on angel's wings, than from length. But lank writing is what I think
Let Peace descend, and shouting greet, ought inost to be declined, if for nothing else, for With peals of joy, Britannia's Aeet,
our plenty of it. How richly freighted! It, triumphant, brings The ode is the most spirited kind of poetry, and The poise of kingdoms, and the fate of kings.” the Pindaric is the most spirited kind of ode; this
I speak at my own very great peril: but truth has
an eternal title to our confession, though we are 1 Russia. 3 Aurora borealis.
sure to suffer by it.
I glow, I burn! the numbers pure,
High-flavour'd, delicate, mature,
Spontaneous stream from my unlabour'd breast, ON THE BRITISH TRADE AND NAVIGATION As, when full ripen'd teems the vine,
The generous busts of willing wine
Distil nectareous from the grape unprest.
STRAIN THE FIRST.
How the king attended. A prospect of happiness. The proposition. An address to the vessel that
Industry. A surprising instance of it in old Rome. brought over the king. Who should sing on this The mischief of sloth. What happiness is. Sloth occasion. A Pindaric boast.
its greatest enemy. Trade natural to Britain.
Trade invoked. Described. What the greatest Fast by the surge my limbs are spread, human excellence. The praise of wealth. Its use, The naval oak nods o'er my head;
aluse, end. The variety of Nature. The final mo. The winds are loud; the waves tumultuous roll;
Tal cause of it. The benefit of man's necessities. Ye winds ! indulge your rage no more ;
Britain's naval stores. She makes all Nature Ye sounding billows ! cease to roar;
viccable to her ends. Of reason. Its ercellence. The god descends; and transports warm my soul.
How we should form our estimate of things. Rea.
son's difficult task. Why the first glory hers. The waves are bush'd; the winds are spent! This kingdoin, from the kingdoms rent,
Her effects in old Britain. I celebrate in song-Fam'd Isle ! no less,
Our monarch comes ! nor comes alone!" By Nature's favour, from mankind, Than by the toaming sea, disjoin'd;
What shining forms surround his throne, Alone in bliss ! an isle, in happiness !
O Sun! as planets thee !--To my loud strain
See Peace, by Wisdom led, advance ; Though fate and time have damp'd my strains, The Grace, the Muse, the Season, Dance ; Thi ugh youth no longer fires my veins,
And Plenty spreads behind her flowing train ! Though stow their streams in this cold climate run;
« Our monarch comes ! nor comes alone :” The royal eye dispels my cares, Recals the warmth of blooming years,
New glories kindle round his throne,
The visions rise! I triumph as I gaze: Returning George supplics the distant Sun.
By Pindar led, I turn'd of late Away, my soul ! salute the Pine!,
The volume dark, the folds of Fate; That glads the heart of Caroline,
And, now, am present to the future blaze, Its grand deposit faithful to restore ;
By George and Jove it is decreed,
The mighty Months in pomp proceed,
Pair daughters of the Sun !-O) thou, divine,
Blest Industry! a smiling Earth My soul! to thee, she spreads her sails;
From thee alone derives its birth : Their bosoms fill with sacred gales;
By thee the ploughshare and its master shine. With inspiration from the godhead warm;
From thee, mast, cable, anchor, oar, Now bound for an eternal clime
From thee the canron and bis roar; O send her down the tide of time,
On oaks purst, rear'd by thee, wealth, empire grow; Snatch'd from oblivion, and secure from storm.
O golden fruit ! onk well might prove Or teach this flag, like that to soar,
The sacred tree, the tree of Jove; Which gods of old and heroes bore;
All Jove can give, the naval oak bestows. Bid her a British constellation rise
What cannot industry complete? The sea she scorns; and, now, shall bound
When Punic war first flam'd, the great, On lofty billows of sweet sound,
Bold, active, ardent, Roman fathers meet : I am her pilot, and her port the skies !
“ Fell all your groves,” a Flamen cries; Dare you to sing, ye tinkling train ?
As soon they fall; as soon they rise; Silence, ye wretched ! ye profane !
One moon, a forest, and the next, a fleet. Who shackle prose, and boast of absent gods ;
Is sloth indulgence? 'T is a toil; Who murder thought, and numbers maim,
Enervates man, and damns the soil ; Who write Pindarics cold and laine,
Defeats creation, plunges in distress, And labour stiff Anacreontic Odes.
Cankers our being, all derours;
A full exertion of our powers !
Thence, and thence only, glows our happiness. Ye founts of learning! and ye mints of fame!
The stream may stagnate, yet be clear, You, who file off the mortal part
The Sun suspend his swift career, Of glowing thought, with Attic art,
Yet healthy Nature feel her wonted force; And drink pure song from Cam's or Isis' stream.
Ere man, his active springs resign'd,
Can rust in body and in mind, 1 The vessel that brought over the king. Yet taste of bliss, of which he chokes the source.
Where, Industry! thy daughter fair ?
Happy the man who, large of heart, Recal her to her native air;
Has learnt the rare, illustrious art Flere, was Trade born, here bred, here flourish'd long; of being rich: stores starve us, or they cloy ; And ever shall she flourish here :
From gold, if more than chemic skill,
Wake, sting her up. Trade! lean no more Plenty 's a means, and joy her end :
Eralied minds their joys extend :
And, see, she's rous'd, absolv'd from fears, As lofly turrets, by their height,
When humbler scenes resign their light,
Pregnant with blessings, Britain ! swear She levies gain on every place,
No sordid son of thine shall dare Religion, habit, custom, tongue, and aame ; Offend the donor of thy wealth and peace; Again, she travels with the Sun,
Who now his whole creation drains Again, she draws a golden zone (fame! To pour into thy tumid veins Round Earth and main ; bright zone of wealth and That blood of nations ! commerce and increase, Ten thousand active hands, that hung
How various Nature! turgid grain In shameful sloth with nerves unstrung,
Here nodding floats the golden plain; The nation's languid load, defy the storms, There, worms weave silken webs; here, glowing vines The sheets unfurl, and anchors weigh,
Lay forth their purple to the Sun, The long-moor’d vessel wing to sea,
Beneath the soil, there harvests run, Worlds, worlds salute, and peopled Ocean swarms. And kings' revenues ripen in the mines. His sons, Po, Ganges, Danube, Nile,
What's various Nature? Art divine Their sedgy foreheads lift, and smile;
Man's soul to soften and retine ; Their urns inverted prodigally pour
Heaven different growths to different lands imparts, Streams, charg'd with wealth, and vow to buy That all may stand in need of all, Britannia for their great ally,
And interest draw around the ball, With climes paid down; what can the gods do more? A net to catch and join all human hearts. Cold Russia costly furs from far,
Thus has the great Creator's pen Hot China sends her painted jar,
His law supreme, to mortal men, France gencrous wines to crown it, Arab sweet In their necessities distinctly writ : With gales of incense swells our sails,
E'en appetite supplies the place Nor distant Ind our mercbant fails,
Of absent virtue, absent grace, Her richest ore the ballast of our fleet.
And human want performs for human wit.
Vast naval ensigns strow'd around,
But flows, glides, breathes, shines, pours for As her proud sceptred sons survey,
At every port, on every quay,
The unwieldy tuin! the ponderous bale! The serrant Ocean for thy sake
Each prince his own clime set to sale Both sinks and swells : his arms thy bosom wrap,
Sees here, by subjects of a British king :
How Earth 's abridg'd! all nations range And fondly give, in boundless dower, To mighty George's growing power,
A narrow spot, our throng'd Exchange! The wafted world into thy loaded lap.
And send the streams of plenty from their spring, Commerce brings riches, riches crown
Nor Earth alone, all Nature bends Fair Virtue with the first renown:
In aid to Britain's glorious ends : A large revenue, and a large expense,
Toils she in trade? or bleeds in honest wars ? When hearts for others' welfare glow,
Her keel each yielding sea enthrals, And spend as free as gods bestow,
Each willing wind her canvass calls,
Glow then, my breast ! alound, my store ! In size confin'd, and humbly made,
What though we creep beneath the shade, Their want and apathy let Stoics boast :
And seem as emmets on this point, the ball ? Passions and riches, good or ill,
Heaven lighted-up the human soul, As us'd by man, demnand our skill;
Hearen bid its rays transpierce the whole, All blessings wound us, when discretion's lost. And, giving godlike reason, gave us all. Wealth, in the virtuous and the wise,
Thou golden chain 'twixt God and men, 'Tis vice and folly to despise :
Blest Reason! guide my life and pen, Let those in praise of poverty refine,
All ills, like ghosts, fly trembling at thy light: Whose heads or hearts pervert its use,
Who thee obeys, reigns over all; The narrow-soul'd, or the profuse,
Smiles, though the stars around him fall; The truly-great find morals in the mine;
A God is nought but reason infinite.