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From ancient days, when dwelt her savage race,
Her painted natives, foremost in the chase,
Free from all cares for luxury or gain,
Lords of the wood and monarchs of the plain;
To these Augustan days, when social arts
Refine and meliorate her manly hearts;
From doubtful Arthur-hero of romance,
King of the circled board, the spear, the lance-
To those whose recent trophies grace her shield,
The gallant victors of Vimeira’s field ;
Still have her warriors borne th' unfading crown
And made the British flag the ensign of renown.

Thine are the dauntless bands, like Spartans

brave, Bold in the field, triumphant on the wave; In classic elegance and arts divine, To rival Athens' fairest palm is thine; For taste and fancy from Hymettus fly, And richer bloom beneath thy varying sky, Where Science mounts in radiant car sublime To other worlds beyond the sphere of time! Hail, Albion, hail ! to thce has fate denied Peruvian mines and rich Hindostan's pride, The gems that Ormuz and Golconda boast, And all the wealth of Montezuma's coast : For thee no Parian marbles brightly shine, No glowing suns mature the blushing vine; No light Arabian gales their wings expand, To waft Sabæan incense o'er the land ; No graceful cedars crown thy lofty hills, No trickling myrrh for thee its balm distils ; Not from thy trees the lucid amber flows, And far from thee the scented cassia blows : Yet fearless Commerce, pillar of thy throne, Makes all the wealth of foreign climes thy own; From Lapland's shore to Afric's fervid reign, She bids thy ensigns float above the main ; Unfurls her streamers to the favouring gale, And shows to other worlds her daring sail : Then wafts their gold, their varied stores to thee, Queen of the trident ! empress of the sea !

Spirit of ALFRED! patriot soul sublime ! Thou morning-star of error's darkest time ! Prince of the Lion-heart! whose arm in fight, On Syria's plains repell’d Saladin’s might ! EDWARD ! for bright heroic deeds revered, By Cressy's fame to Britain still endear'd ! Triumphant HENRY ! thou, whose valour proud, The lofty plume of crested Gallia bow'd ! Look down, look down, exalted shades! and

view Your Albion still to freedom's banner true ! Behold the land, ennobled by your fame, Supreme in glory, and of spotless name: And, as the pyramid indignant rears Its awful head, and mocks the waste of years ; See her secure in pride of virtue tower, While prostrate nations kiss the rod of power !

Lo! where her pennons, waving high, aspire, Bold Victory hovers near, “with eyes of fire !" While Lusitania hails, with just applause, The brave defenders of her injured cause; Bids the full song, the note of triumph rise, And swells th' exulting pæan to the skies !

For this thy noble sons have spread alarms,
And bade the zones resound with Britain's arms !
Calpe's proud rock, and Syria's palmy shore,
Have heard and trembled at their battle's roar;
The sacred waves of fertilising Nile
Have seen the triumphs of the conquering isle ;
For this, for this, the Samiel-blast of war
Has rolld o'er Vincent's cape and Trafalgar !
Victorious RODNEY spread thy thunder's sound,
And NELSON fell, with fame immortal crown'd-
Blest if their perils and their blood could gain,
To grace thy hand, the sceptre of the main !
The milder emblems of the virtues calm-
The poet's verdant bay, the sage's palm-
These in thy laurel's blooming foliage twine,
And round thy brows a deathless wreath com-

bine :
Not Mincio's banks, nor Meles' classic tide,
Are hallow'd more than Avon's haunted side;
Nor is thy Thames a less inspiring theme
Than pure Ilissus, or than Tiber's stream.

And they, who late with anguish, hard to tell, Breathed to their cherish'd realms a sad farewell ! Who, as the vessel bore them o'er the tide, Still fondly linger'd on its deck, and sighd; Gazed on the shore, till tears obscured their sight, And the blue distance melted into lightThe Royal exiles, forced by Gallia's hate To fly for refuge in a foreign stateThey, soon returning o'er the western main, Ere long may view their clime beloved again : And as the blazing pillar led the host Of faithful Israel o'er the desert coast, So may Britannia guide the noble band O'er the wild ocean to their native land. O glorious isle !-0 sovereign of the waves ! Thine are the sons who "never will be slaves !"

Bright in the annals of th' impartial page, Britannia's heroes live from age to age !

See them once more, with ardent hearts advance,
And rend the laurels of insulting France;
To brave Castile their potent aid supply,
And wave, 0 Freedom ! wave thy sword on high!

Is there no bard of heavenly power possess'd
To thrill, to rouse, to animate the breast?
Like Shakspeare o'er the secret mind to sway,
And call each wayward passion to obey?
Is there no bard, imbued with hallow'd fire,
To wake the chords of Ossian's magic lyre ;
Whose numbers breathing all his flame divine,
The patriot's name to ages might consign?
Rise, Inspiration ! rise ! be this thy theme,
And mount, like Uriel, on the golden beam !

Serene he lifts to heaven those closing eyes,
Then for his country breathes a prayer—and

Oh! ever hallow'd be his verdant grave
There let the laurel spread, the cypress wave !
Thou, lovely Spring! bestow, to grace his tomb,
Thy sweetest fragrance, and thy earliest bloom ;
There let the tears of heaven descend in balm,
There let the poet consecrate his palm !
Let honour, pity, bless the holy ground,
And shades of sainted heroes watch around !
'Twas thus, while Glory rung his thrilling knell,
Thy chief, 0 Thebes ! at Mantinea fell;
Smiled undismay'd within the arms of death,
While Victory, weeping nigh, received his breath!

Oh, could my muse on seraph pinion spring, O thou, the sovereign of the noble soul! And sweep with rapture's hand the trembling Thou source of energies beyond control ! string!

Queen of the lofty thought, the generous deed, Could she the bosom energies control,

Whose sons unconquer'd fight, undaunted bleed,-And pour impassion'd fervour o'er the soul ! Inspiring Liberty! thy worshipp'd name Oh, could she strike the harp to Milton given, The warm enthusiast kindles to a flame; Brought by a cherub from th' empyrean heaven! Thy charms inspire him to achievements high, Ah, fruitless wish ! ah, prayer preferrd in vain, Thy look of heaven, thy voice of harmony. For her—the humblest of the woodland train; More blest with thee to tread perennial snows, Yet shall her feeble voice essay to raise

Where ne'er a flower expands, a zephyr blows; The hymn of liberty, the song of praise !

Where Winter, binding nature in his chain,

In frost-work palace holds perpetual reign; Iberian bands ! whose noble ardour glows Than, far from thee, with frolic step to rove To pour confusion on oppressive foes;

The green savannas and the spicy grove; Intrepid spirits, hail ! 'tis yours to feel

Scent the rich balm of India's perfumed gales, The hero's fire, the freeman's godlike zeal !

In citron-woods and aromatic vales :
Not to secure dominion's boundless reign,

For oh ! fair Liberty, when thou art peor,
Ye wave the flag of conquest o'er the slain; Elysium blossoms in the desert drear !
No cruel rapine leads you to the war,
Nor mad ambition, whirl'd in crimson car.

Where'er thy smile its magic power bestows, No, brave Castilians ! yours a nobler end,

There arts and taste expand, there fancy glows; Your land, your laws, your monarch to defend ! The sacred lyre its wild enchantment gives, For these, for these, your valiant legions rear And every chord to swelling transport lives; The floating standard, and the lofty spear ! There ardent Genius bids the pencil trace The fearless lover wields the conquering sword, The soul of beauty, and the lines of grace; Fired by the image of the maid adored !

With bold Promethean hand, the canvass warms, His best-beloved, his fondest ties, to aid,

And calls from stone expression's breathing forms. The father's hand unsheaths the glittering blade ! Thus, where the fruitful Nile o'erflows its bound, For each, for all, for ev'ry sacred right,

Its genial waves diffuse abundance round, The daring patriot mingles in the fight!

Bid Ceres laugh o'er waste and sterile sands, And e'en if love or friendship fail to warm, And rich profusion clothe deserted lands. His country's name alone can nerve his dauntless arm !

Immortal Freedom ! daughter of the skies !

To thee shall Britain's grateful incense rise. He bleeds ! he falls ! his death-bed is the field ! Ne'er, goddess ! ne'er forsake thy favourite isle, His dirge the trumpet, and his bier the shield ! Still be thy Albion brightend with thy smile ! His closing eyes the beam of valour speak, Long had thy spirit slept in dead repose, The flush of ardour lingers on his check:

While proudly triumph'd thine insulting foes;

Yet, though a cloud may veil Apollo's light,
Soon, with celestial beam, he breaks to sight:
Once more we see thy kindling soul return,
Thy vestal-flame with added radiance burn;
Lo! in Iberian hearts thine ardour lives,
Lo ! in Iberian hearts thy spark revives !

Proceed, proceed, ye firm undaunted band ! Still sure to conquer, if combined ye stand. Though myriads flashing in the eye of day Stream'd o'er the smiling land in long array, Though tyrant Asia pour'd unnumber'd foes, Triumphant still the arm of Greece arose ;For every state in sacred union stood, Strong to repel invasion's whelming flood; Each heart was glowing in the general cause, Each band prepared to guard their hallow'd

laws; Athenian valour join'd Laconia's might, And but contended to be first in fight; From rank to rank the warm contagion ran, And Hope and Freedom led the flaming van. Then Persia's monarch mourn'd his glories lost, As wild confusion wing'd his flying host; Then Attic bards the hymn of victory sung, The Grecian harp to notes exulting rung! Then Sculpture bade the Parian stone record The high achievements of the conquering sword. Thus, brave Castilians! thus may bright renown And fair success your valiant efforts crown!

Yet, though thy transient pageantries are gone,
Like fairy visions, bright, yet swiftly flown;
Genius of chivalry! thy noble train,
Thy firm, exalted virtues yet remain!
Fair truth, array'd in robes of spotless white,
Her eye a sunbeam, and her zone of light;
Warm emulation, with aspiring aim,
Still darting forward to the wreath of fame;
And purest love, that waves his torch divine,
At awful honour's consecrated shrine;
Ardour, with eagle-wing and fiery glance;
And generous courage, resting on his lance;
And loyalty, by perils unsubdued;
Untainted faith, unshaken fortitude ;
And patriot energy, with heart of flame-
These, in Iberia's sons are yet the same !
These from remotest days their souls have fired,
“Nerved every arm,” and every breast inspired !
When Moorish bands their suffering land possessid,
And fierce oppression rear'd her giant crest,
The wealthy caliphs on Cordova's throne
In eastern gems and purple splendour shone;
Theirs was the proud magnificence that vied
With stately Bagdat's oriental pride;
Theirs were the courts in regal pomp array'd,
Where arts and luxury their charms display'd;
'Twas theirs to rear the Zehrar's costly towers,
Its fairy-palace and enchanted bowers;
There all Arabian fiction e'er could tell
Of potent genii or of wizard spell

All that a poet's dream could picture bright,
One sweet Elysium, charm'd the wondering sight!
Too fair, too rich, for work of mortal hand,
It seem'd an Eden from Armida's wand !

Genius of chivalry! whose early days Tradition still recounts in artless lays; Whose faded splendours fancy oft recallsThe floating banners and the lofty halls, The gallant feats thy festivals display'd, The tilt, the tournament, the long crusade; Whose ancient pride Romance delights to hail, In fabling numbers, or heroic tale: Those times are fled, when stern thy castles

frown'd, Their stately towers with feudal grandeur crown'd; Those times are fled, when fair Iberia's clime Beheld thy Gothic reign, thy pomp sublime; And all thy glories, all thy deeds of yore, Live but in legends wild, and poet's lore. Lo! where thy silent harp neglected lies, Light o'er its chords the murmuring zephyr sighs; Thy solemn courts, where once the minstrel sung, The choral voice of mirth and music rung; Now, with the ivy clad, forsaken, lone, Hear but the breeze and echo to its moan : Thy lonely towers deserted fall away, Thy broken shield is mouldering in decay.

Yet vain their pride, their wealth, and radiant

state, When freedom waved on high the sword of fate ! When braye Ramiro bade the despots fear, Stern retribution frowning on his spear; And fierce Almanzor, after many a fight, O’erwhelm'd with shame, confess'd the Christian's


In later times the gallant Cid arose, Burning with zeal against his country's foes; His victor-arm Alphonso's throne maintain'd, His laureate brows the wreath of conquest gain'd! And still his deeds Castilian bards rehearse, Inspiring theme of patriotic verse ! High in the temple of recording fame, Iberia points to great Gonsalvo's name ! Victorious chief! whose valour still defied The arms of Gaul, and bow'd her crested pride ; Still prouder glories beam on history's page, Imperial CHARLES! to mark thy prosperous age Those golden days of arts and fancy bright, When Science pour'd her mild, refulgent light; When Painting bade the glowing canvass breathe Creative Sculpture claim'd the living wreath; When roved the Muses in Ausonian bowers, Weaving immortal crowns of fairest flowers; When angel-truth dispersed, with beam divine, The clouds that veil'd religion's hallow'd shrine Those golden days beheld Iberia tower High on the pyramid of fame and power; Vain all the efforts of her numerous foes, Her might, superior still, triumphant roso. Thus on proud Lebanon's exalted brow, The cedar, frowning o'er the plains below, Though storms assail, its regal pomp to rend, Majestic, still aspires, disdaining e'er to bend !

With splendid trophies graced his sovereign's

throne, And bade Granada's realms his prowess own. Nor were his deeds thy only boast, 0 Spain ! In mighty FERDINAND's illustrious reign; 'Twas then thy glorious Pilot spread the sail, Unfurl'd his flag before the eastern gale; Bold, sanguine, fearless, ventured to explore Seas unexplored, and worlds unknown before. Fair science guided o'er the liquid realm, Sweet hope, exulting, steer'd the daring helm; While on the mast, with ardour-flashing eye, Courageous enterprise still hover'd nigh: The hoary genius of th' Atlantic main Saw man invade his wide majestic reignHis empire, yet by mortal unsubdued, The throne, the world of awful solitude. And e'en when shipwreck seem'd to rear his

form, And dark destruction menaced in the storm; In every shape when giant-peril rose, To daunt his spirit and his course oppose; O'er ev'ry heart when terror sway'd alone, And hope forsook each bosom but his own: Moved by no dangers, by no fears repell’d, His glorious track the gallant sailor held; Attentive still to mark the sea-birds lave, Or high in air their snowy pinions wave. Thus princely Jason, launching from the steep, With dauntless prow explored th' untravellid

Thus, at the helm, Ulysses' watchful sight
View'd ev'ry star and planetary light.
Sublime COLUMBUS! when, at length descried,
The long-sought land arose above the tide,
How every heart with exultation glow'd,
How from each eye the tear of transport flow'd !
Not wilder joy the sons of Israel knew
When Canaan's fertile plains appear'd in view.
Then rose the choral anthem on the breeze,
Then martial music floated o'er the seas;
Their waving streamers to the sun display'd,
In all the pride of warlike pomp array'd.
Advancing nearer still, the ardent band
Hail'd the glad shore, and bless'd the stranger

Admired its palmy groves and prospects fair,
With rapture breathed its pure ambrosial air:
Then crowded round its free and simple race,
Amazement pictured wild on every face;
Who deem'd that beings of celestial birth,
Sprung from the sun, descended to the earth.
Then first another world, another sky,
Beheld Iberia's banner blaze on high !

When Gallia pour'd to Pavia's trophied plain, Her youthful knights, a bold, impetuous train; When, after many a toil and danger past, The fatal morn of conflict rose at last; That morning saw her glittering host combine, And form in close array the threat'ning line; Fire in each eye, and force in ev'ry arm, With hope exulting, and with ardour warın; Saw to the gale their streaming ensigns play, Their armour flashing to the beam of day; Their gen'rous chargers panting, spurn the ground, Roused by the trumpet's animating sound; And heard in air their warlike music float, The martial pipe, the drum's inspiring note!

Pale set the sun—the shades of evening fell, The mournful night-wind rung their funeral

knell; And the same day beheld their warriors dead, Their sovereign captive, and their glories fled ! Fled, like the lightning's evanescent fire, Bright, blazing, dreadful—only to expire ! Then, then, while prostrate Gaul confess'd her

might, Iberia's planet shed meridian light ! Nor less, on famed St Quintin's deathful day, Castilian spirit bore the prize awayLaurels that still their verdure shall retaini, And trophies beaming high in glory's fane ! And lo! her heroes, warm with kindred flame, Still proudly emulate their fathers' fame; Still with the soul of patriot-valour glow, Still rush impetuous to repel the foe; Wave the bright falchion, lift the beamy spear, And bid oppressive Gallia learn to fear!

Be theirs, be theirs unfading honour's crown, Go, bid the rolling orbs thy mandate hear-
The living amaranths of bright renown !

Go, stay the lightning in its wing’d career!
Be theirs th' inspiring tribute of applause, No, tyrant! no ! thy utmost force is vain
Due to the champions of their country's cause ! The patriot-arm of freedom to restrain.
Be theirs the purest bliss that virtue loves, Then bid thy subject-bands in armour shine,
The joy when conscience whispers and approves ! Then bid thy legions all their power combine !
When every heart is fired, each pulse beats high, Yet couldst thou summon myriads at command,
To fight, to bleed, to fall, for liberty;

Did boundless realms obey thy sceptred hand, When every hand is dauntless and prepared E'en then her soul thy lawless might would spurn, The sacred charter of mankind to guard; E'en then, with kindling fire, with indignation When Britain's valiant sons their aid unite,

burn! Fervent and glowing still for freedom's right, Bid ancient enmities for ever cease,

Ye sons of Albion ! first in danger's field, And ancient wrongs forgotten sleep in peace. The sword of Britain and of truth to wield ! When, firmly leagued, they join the patriot baud, Still prompt the injured to defend and save, Can venal slaves their conquering arms withstand? Appal the despot, and assist the brave; Can fame refuse their gallant deeds to bless ? Who now intrepid lift the generous blade, Can victory fail to crown them with success? The cause of Justice and Castile to aid ! Look down, o Heaven ! the righteous cause Ye sons of Albion ! by your country's name, maintain,

Her crown of glory, her unsullied fame; Defend the injured, and avenge the slain ! Oh! by the shades of Cressy's martial dead, Despot of France ! destroyer of mankind ! By warrior-bands at Agincourt who bled; What spectre-cares must haunt thy sleepless By honours gain'd on Blenheim's fatal plain, mind !

By those in Victory's arms at Minden slain; Oh! if at midnight round thy regal bed,

By the bright laurels WOLFE immortal won, When soothing visions fly thine aching head; Undaunted spirit ! valour's favourite son ! When sleep denies thy anxious cares to calm, By Albion's thousand, thousand deeds sublime, And lull thy senses in his opiate balm ;

Renown'd from zone to zone, from clime to clime; Invoked by guilt, if airy phantoms rise,

Ye British heroes! may your trophies raise And murder'd victims bleed before thine eyes; A deathless monument to future days ! Loud let them thunder in thy troubled ear, Oh! may your courage still triumphant rise, "Tyrant! the hour, th' avenging hour is near !". Exalt the "lion banner" to the skies ! It is, it is ! thy star withdraws its ray

Transcend the fairest names in history's page, Soon will its parting lustre fade away;

The brightest actions of a former age; Soon will Cimmerian shades obscure its light, The reign of Freedom let your arms restore, And veil thy splendours in eternal night! And bid oppression fall—to rise no more ! Oh! when accusing conscience wakes thy soul Then soon returning to your native isle, With awful terrors and with dread control, May love and beauty hail you with their smile; Bids threat'ning forms, appalling, round thee stand, For you may conquest weave th' undying wreath, And summons all her visionary band;

And fame and glory's voice the song of rapture Calls up the parted shadows of the dead,

breathe! And whispers, peace and happiness are fled;

Ah ! when shall mad ambition cease to rage ? Een at the time of silence and of rest,

Ah! when shall war his demon-wrath assuage? Paints the dire poniard menacing thy breast; When, when, supplanting discord's iron reign, Is then thy cheek with guilt and horror pale? Shall mercy wave her olive-wand again? Then dost thou tremble, does thy spirit fail ? Not till the despot's dread career is closed, And wouldst thou yet by added crimes provoke And might restrain'd and tyranny deposed ! The bolt of heaven to launch the fatal stroke? Bereave a nation of its rights revered,

Return, sweet Peace, ethereal form benign ! Of all to morals sacred and endear'd?

Fair blue-eyed seraph! balmy power divine ! And shall they tamely liberty resign,

Descend once more! thy hallow'd blessings bring, The soul of life, the source of bliss divine ? Wave thy bright locks, and spread thy downy wing! Canst thou, supreme destroyer ! hope to bind, Luxuriant plenty, laughing in thy train, In chains of adamant, the noble mind?

Shall crown with glowing stores the desert plain:

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