To see the sun how brightly it will shine, 5 Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air 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? XXI. ENGLAND! the time is come when thou should'st wean Thy heart from its emasculating food; 6 Aught good were destined, thou would'st step between. England! all nations in this charge agree: 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 Thee! XXII. 1803. (?) OCTOBER, 1803. WHEN, looking on the present face of things, God! ΙΟ 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. XXIII. TO THE MEN OF KENT. OCTOBER, 1803. VANGUARD of Liberty, ye men of Kent, 5 Her haughty brow against the coast of France, Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath; 10 Confirmed the charters that were yours before; No parleying now. In Britain is one breath; We all are with you now from shore to shore :Ye men of Kent, 'tis victory or death! XXIV. 5 WHAT if our numbers barely could defy XXV. ΙΟ LINES ON THE EXPECTED INVASION. 1803. COME уe-who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Land Were with herself at strife, would take your stand, Like gallant Falkland, by the Monarch's side, And, like Montrose, make Loyalty your prideCome 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 ΙΟ Would keep, perhaps with many a fruitless tear, 20 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, 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. XXVII. NOVEMBER, 1806. 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. XXVIII. 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! |