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THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

HENRY DUNDAS,

WITH A POEM ON THE DEATH OF

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY.

Now when the thunder of dread War is o'er,
And Peace her olive plants on BRITAIN'S shore,
Descending from the toilsome steep of power,
In tranquil shades to share the social hour,
Wilt thou, DUNDAS, this tribute sad receive,
(No fairer tribute has the Muse to give),
The plausive lay-the mournful cypress wreath,
The hard-won meed of Valour's glorious death:
Tho' with thy country's sorrows doom'd to blend
The heart-drawn sigh that mourns the long-lov'd friend;
Tho' painful memory sorrowing marks the day

When to the fatal field

you

sketch'd his way,

Bid him to Afric stem the hostile flood,
And plant those laurels,-water'd with his blood:
Yet when you see the cloudless glory blaze
That shed its lustre on his closing days,

And hear th' applauding world that fame resound
With which thy counsels and his acts are crown'd,
In public joy thy private sorrows drown,
And taste unmix'd the sweets of fair renown;
And when you see your country's troubles cease,
And Commerce flourish in the shades of Peace,
The will Divine with sacred awe revere,

Nor think such blessings can be bought too dear!

ON THE

DEATH

OF

SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY,

KNIGHT OF THE BATH.

BLEST was the Chief, who full of days and fame,
No longer rul'd o'er War's vindictive flame,
But pleas'd to see the mad contention cease,
Hung up his trophies in the hall of Peace,-
His shining arms, no longer stain'd with gore,
And heard the clarion's deadly blast no more;
Saw his kind sovereign, with approving eye
Bestow the hard-earn'd meed of victory;
Heard his glad country's universal voice,
Applausive, justify their Sovereign's choice;

And felt soft melting in his generous breast The parent and the husband all confest; While the fond mother of his duteous race, With faded beauty, but with heighten'd grace, Serenely smiling, saw in manhood's pride Her sons attending at their father's side: Or when with blushing awe his daughters came, With mingled fear, rejoicing in his fame, Benignant pleasure smooth'd his placid brow,— So guardian angels view their charge below. Good ABERCROMBY thus in peace respir'd, Till Gaul, with ceaseless thirst of conquest fir'd, Wide havock spread o'er all the neighbouring lands, And pour'd her troops on Afric's torrid sands: Low on the shore see Egypt's Genius weep, While Gallia's flag usurping rides the deep; Father of waters, Nilus, sinks dismay'd, While crowding barks his sevenfold mouth invade: Back to the desert fly the Arab race,

And POMPEY's pillar trembles to its base: His injur'd spirit joys to see once more Stern vengeance threat th' inhospitable shore. The haughty Turk beholds, with dread surprise, War's pomp appearing in unwonted guise; Hears with chill awe the long responsive groan, When thundering cannons mow whole squadrons down;

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And shrinking sees the crescent's waning light,
And OTHMAN's banner turn'd to sudden flight:
In vain the desart's lonely waste surrounds,

With burning zone, Medina's hallow'd bounds,
And pilgrims, with mistaken zeal, no more
Their prophet's consecrated fane explore.
Their leader gives the word-ambitious Gaul
Anticipates our Eastern empire's fall,
And onward still her daring banners led,
Tho' NELSON conquer'd, and tho' KLEBER bled:
In silent awe the Sultan sighs alone,

Till British arms support his sinking throne.
And see! stern issuing at their Monarch's call
From many a tented field and trophy'd hall,
Brave chiefs in "glittering arms and glory drest,"
Prepare to prove the powers of the West:
And lo! descending to the subject main,
Great ABERCROMBY leads the warlike train.
No more the dear domestic ties engage,
Joy of his youth, and solace of his age!
A long farewel, that calm parental seat,
Where ancient virtues found a safe retreat;
Where cherish'd swains, with grateful homage bend,
And weakness finds a prop, and worth a friend;
Love, friendship, kindred, all at once resign'd,
His country's glory now engross'd his mind,

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