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To see the sun how brightly it will shine, 10 And know that noble feelings, manly powers, Instead of gathering strength, must droop and

pine; And earth with all ber pleasant fruits and

flowers Fade, and participate in man's decline.

1803. (?)


OCTOBER, 1803.

These times strike monied worldlings with

Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day 5

And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin 10

Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath;
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital,—and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?


England ! the time is come when thou should'st wean. •

Thy heart from its emasculating food;
The truth should now be better understood;
Old things have been unsettled; we have seen
Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been
But for thy trespasses; and, at this day, 6

If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa,

Aught good were destined, thou would'st step

between. England! all nations in this charge agree: But worse, more ignorant in love and hate, 10 Far—far more abject, is thine Enemy: Therefore the wise pray for thee, though the

freight Of thy offences be a heavy weight: Oh grief that Earth's best hopes rest all with


1803. (?)

OCTOBER, 1803.

When, looking on the present face of things,
I see one man, of men the meanest too!
Raised up to sway the world, to do, undo,
With mighty Nations for his underlings,
The great events with which old story rings 5
Seem vain and hollow; I find nothing great:
Nothing is left which I can venerate;
So that a doubt almost within me springs
Of Providence, such emptiness at length
Seems at the heart of all things. But, great

God! '10

I measure back the steps which I have trod; And tremble, seeing whence proceeds the

strength Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts

sublime - I tremble at the sorrow of the time.



Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent,
Ye children of a Soil that doth advance
Her haughty brow against the coast of France,
Now is the time to prove your hardiment!
To France be words of invitation sent! 5

They from their fields can see the countenance
Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance
And hear you shouting forth your brave intent.
Left single, in bold parley, ye, of yore,
Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath; 10
Confirmed the charters that were yours be-
No parleying now. In Britain is one breath;
We all are with you now from shore to shore:—
Te men of Kent, 'tis victory or death!

What if our numbers barely could defy
The arithmetic of babes, must foreign hordes,
Slaves, vile as ever were befooled by words,
Striking through English breasts the anarchy
Of Terror, bear us to the ground, and tie 5
Our hands behind our backs with felon cords?
"Yields every thing to discipline of swords?
Is man as good as man, none low, none high ?—
Nor discipline nor valour can withstand
The shock, nor quell the inevitable rout, 10
When in some great extremity breaks out
A people, on their own beloved Land
Risen, like one man, to combat in the sight
Of a just God for liberty and right.




C6me ye—who, if (which Heaven avert! ) the Land

Were with herself at strife, would take your

Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side,
And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your pride—
Come ye—who, not less zealous, might display 5
Banners at enmity with regal sway,
And, like the Pyms and Miltons of that day,
Think that a State would live in sounder health
If Kingship bowed its head to Commonwealth—
Ye too—whom no discreditable fear 10

Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear,
Uncertain what to choose and how to steer—
And ye—who might mistake for sober sense
And wise reserve the plea of indolence—
Come ye—whate'er your creed—0 waken all, 15
Whate'er your temper, at your Country's call;
Resolving (this a free-born Nation can)
To have one Soul, and perish to a man,
Or save this honoured Land from every Lord
But British reason and the British sword. zo



Shout, for a mighty Victory is won!

On British ground the Invaders are laid low;

The breath of Heaven has drifted them like

snow, And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!—the work isjdone. 5

Come forth, ye old men, now in peaceful show And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets

blow! Make merry, wives ! ye little children, stun Your grandame's ears with pleasure of your

noise! 9 Clap, infants, clap your hands! Divine must be That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, And even the prospect of our brethren slain, Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:— In glory will they sleep and endless sanctity.



Another year!-—another deadly blow!
Another mighty Empire overthrown!
And We are left, or shall be left, alone;
The last that dare to struggle with the Foe.
'Tis well! from this day forward we shall

know 5

That in ourselves our safety must be sought; That by our own right hands it must be

wrought; That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low. O dastard whom such foretaste doth not cheer! We shall exult, if they who rule the land io Be men who hold its many blessings dear, Wise, upright, valiant; not a servile band, Who are to judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand.



i. Who rises on the banks of Seine, And binds her temples with the civic wreath? What joy to read the promise of her mien! How sweet to rest her wide-spread wings beneath!

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