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ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1804.

By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq. Poet Laureat.

I.

THEN, at the Despot's dread command,
Bridg'd Hellespont his myriads bore

From servile Asia's peopled strand,

To Græcia's and to Freedom's shore-
While hostile fleets terrific sweep
With threatening oar th' Ionian deep,
Clear Dirce's bending reeds among
The Theban Swan no longer sung
No more by Isthmus' wave-worn glade,
Or Nemea's rocks, or Delphi's shade,
Or Pisa's Olive-rooted grove,
The temple of Olympian Jove,
The Muses twin'd the sacred bough

To crown th' Athletic Victor's brow,
Till on the rough gean main,
Till on Platea's trophied plain,

Was crush'd the Persian Tyrant's boast,
O'erwhelm'd his fleet, o'erthrown his host,
Then the bold Theban seiz'd again the lyre,
And struck the chords with renovated fire:
"On human life's delusive state,

"Tho' woes unseen, uncertain, wait

"Heal'd in the gen'rous breast is every pain,

"With undiminish'd force, if Freedom's rights remain t."

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"Go forth, my sons-as nobler rights ye claim "Thin ever fann'd the Grecian patriot's flame, "So let your breasts a ficrcer ardour feel,

"Led by your Patriot King, to guard your Country's weal."

III.

Her voice is heard-from wood, from vale, from down,
The thatch-roof'd village, and the busy town,
Eager th' indignant country swarms,
And pours a people clad in arms,
Num'rous as those whom Xerxes led,
To crush devoted Freedom's head;

Firm as the band for Freedom's cause who stood,
And stain'd Thermopyla with Spartan blood;
Hear o'er their heads the exulting goddess sing:
“These are my favourite sons, and mine their Warrior King!"

IV.

Thro' Albion's plains, while wide and far

Swells the tumultuous din of war,

While from the loom, the forge, the flail,
From Labour's plough, from Commerce' sail,
All ranks to martial impulse yield,
And grasp the spear, and brave the field,
Do weeds our plains uncultur'd hide?

Does drooping Commerce quit the tide ?

Do languid Art and Industry

Their useful cares no longer ply?

Never did Agriculture's toil

With richer harvests clothe the soil;

Ne'er were our barks more amply fraught,

Ne'er were with happier skill, our ores, our feeces wrought.

V.

While the proud foe, to swell invasion's host,

His bleeding country's countless millions drains,
And Gallia mourns, through her embattled coast,
Unpeopled cities, and unlabour'd plains,

To guard and to avenge this favour'd land,
Tho' gleams the sword in ev'ry Briton's hand,
Still o'er our fields waves Concord's silken wing,
Still the Arts flourish, and the Muses sing;
While moral Truth, and Faith's celestial rav,
Adorn, illume, and bless, a George's prosp'rous sway.

ODE

ODE for HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY,

1804.

[By the Same.]

I.

S the blest Guardian of the British Isles,

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Immortal Liberty, triumphant stood,

And view'd her gallant sons, with favouring smiles,
Undaunted heroes of the field or flood;

From Inverary's rocky shores,

Where loud the Hyperborean billow roars,
To where the surges of the Atlantic wave
Around Cornubia's Western borders rave,
While Erin's valiant warriors glow

With kindred fire to crush the injurious foe,

From her bright lance the flames of Vengeance stream, And in her eagle eye shines Glory's radiant beam.

II.

Why sink those smiles in Sorrow's sigh?
Why Sorrow's tears suffuse that eye?
Alas! while weeping Britain sees
The baleful fiends of pale Disease
Malignant hovering near her throne,
And threat a Monarch all her own-
No more from Anglia's fertile land,
No more from Caledonia's strand,
From Erin's breezy hills no more
The panting legions crowd the shore;
The buoyant barks, the vaunting host
That swarm on Gallia's hostile coast,
The anxious thought no longer share,
Lost in a nearer, dearer care,

And Britain breathes alone for GEORGE's life her prayer.

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III. Her

III.

Her prayer is heard-Th' Almighty Power,
Potent to punish or to save,

Bids Health resume again her happier hour;—
And, as across the misty wave

The fresh'ning breezes sweep the clouds away
That hid awhile the golden orb of day,
So from Hygeia's balmy breath

Fly the drear shadows of Disease and Death-
Again the manly breast beats high,
And flames again the indignant eye,
While, from the cottage to the throne,

This generous sentiment alone

Lives in each heart with patriot ardour warm,

Points every sword, nerves every Briton's arm,

"Rush to the field where GEORGE and Freedom lead,

Glory and fame alike the warrior's meed,

Brave in their Country's cause, who conquer or who bleed.”

DOMESTIC

DOMESTIC LITERATURE

Of the Year 1804.

CHAPTER I.

BIBLICAL AND THEOLOGICAL.

Comprising Biblical Criticism, Theological Criticism, Sermons, single Sermons, Controversial Divinity.

F the contributions of the current year, which constitute the first class of the chapter before us, be not so numerous, nor, upon the whole, so important as those of the year preceding, they can by no means be regarded as irrelevant or unentitled to attention, while we have to notice, at the head of them, a continuation of the very acute, recondite, and successful labours, now happily brought to a close, of professor White; upon whose oriental learning and researches we have already had frequent occasions to dilate in terms of equal gratitude and approbation. The work to which we now allude is the third volume of his Edition of Philoxenus's Syriac Version of the New Testament, adding the Epistles of St. Paul to the Four Gospels, which were comprised in the first volume; and to the Acts of the Apostles and theCatholic Epistles, which constituted the second. From the very early period in which the Christian religion was successfully propagated over Syria, where it seems to have taken a firm and extensive root as early as towards the close of the first century from the birth

of our Saviour, it is not to be wondered at that a vernacular version of the New Testament should have existed nearly coeval with the apostles themselves in the Syrian tongue and country. In effect, as there were three distinct dialects spoken within the precincts of Syria, it is highly probable that there were versions published at the period we now speak of in each of them; but we know, from the actual existence of copies even in the present day, that a version of the whole of the New Testament, excepting the se cond epistle of St. Peter, the second and third of St. John, that of St. Jude, and the Apocalypse, was actually published at Antioch, where the purest of the three dialects was vernacular; and the evidences of history will support us in assigning to this Antiochan or Peshito version an antiquity of nearly if not altogether sixteen hundred years; of which a new edition consisting of a thousand copies was struck off at Vienna under the auspices of the emperor Ferdinand I., À. D. 1555. It was nevertheless conceived by several learned men of the fourth and fifth centuries, that this Peshito ver

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