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ODE, ON THE LATE GLORIOUS SUCCESSES OF HIS MAJESTY'S ARMS, AND PRESENT GREATNESS OF THE ENGLISH NATION.
PHILADELPHIA: Printed and Sold by WILLIAM DUNLAP, M, DCC, LXII.
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PREFACE.
THE intent of the following ODE was to furnish the Public with a short Entertainment—The Author thinks he need say little more, than that he respectfully submits it to their Candour.
IF it should be so fortunate as to please, and answer the Design, it will increase the Pleasure of the Writer; if otherwise, the less that is said in its behalf, will certainly be most agreeable to the Reader.
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HEROIC STANZAS, On the late glorious Successes, &c.
I.
HAIL sacred Muse! Thou Harbinger of Fame,
To Britain's Glory raise the lofty Rhime;
A pleasing Task her greatness to proclaim,
And stamp her Honours on the Page of Time!
II.
For sure the Praises of her warlike Train
To the harmonious sounding Lyre belong;
For them, sweet Clio! Thro' the rapt'rous Strain
Pour the rich Tide of Melody along!
III.
As when the Monarchs of the bestial Race
Triumphant rove the sterile lybian Sand,
The Tiger fierce, and Pard they lordly Chase,
Nor dare the Flocks their dreadful Rage withstand.
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IV.Or as the Sovereigns of the briny Flood
Imperial sway their azure liquid Plain,
Before them fly the fearful sinny Brood,
And all confess their wide extended Reign.
V.
So when Britannia's conqu'ring Pow'rs appear,
Her Ensign blazing on th' embattl'd Field,
Heart-struck with Awe, and chill'd with instant Fear,
Her Foes inglorious sly, or trembling yield.
VI.
If her bold Fleet, in gallant trim array'd,
Rolls o'er the boundless Bosom of the Deep,
At her red Cross, her Enemies dismay'd,
With eager Speed the foamy Billows sweep.
VII.
Not Carthage old for opulence renown'd,
Nor Tyre thrice noted for her purple Dye,
Thro' Fame's proud Trump with Britain's Isle shall sound,
Nor with her Trade and pow'rful Navy vie.
VIII.
Her's is rich Commerce to Earth's distant End,
If India yields her aromatic Store,
Or Persia's Looms their silken Beauties blend,
Or Peru's Mines produce the glitt'ring Ore;
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IX.True to her Port, her num'rous Vessels bear
Their costly Freights, from each prolific Soil,
Soft Persia's Silks and India's Spice they share,
And golden Treasures gain without the Toil.
X.
Well doth Britannia take the noble Ways
Which ancient Rome victoriously pursu'd,
At home her People's peerless Worth to raise,
While by her Arms abroad the Foe's subdu'd.
XI.
This infant World now boasts the British Name,
(Small are the Tracts which Gallia's Sons command,
Lessen'd is proud Iberia's ample Claim,)
Won by the valour of her martial Band.
XII.
Yon Isles that fair inlay the western Main,
Like Gems beset in Neptune's azure bound,
On Stars that deck the blue etherial Plain,
The glorious Feats of Britain's Chiefs resound;
XIII.
There on the fragrant Billow-beaten Shore
From Ocean's lap soft ambergris is roll'd,
Delicious Sweets, each Grove diffusing o'er
Of Fruit * Hesperian, bright with bloomy Gold!
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XIV.Still may Britannia's martial Sons proceed,
Till Chili tremble at her Thunder's roar!
Till rich † Potosi at the daring Deed
Shall shake with panic for her gorgeous Store!
XV.
But whither would the wand'ring Muse essay?
Lost in the glory of a sumptuous Theme!
To narrower Bounds new-point the glowing Lay,
Sweet as Castalia's wildly warbling Stream!
XVI.
Nor deem those Acts unworthy of the Lyre
That recent deck the radiant Roll of Fame,
Heroic Deeds, heroic Songs inspire,
And fill the Bard with all the Warrior's Flame:
XVII.
For sure one Passion of the Ray divine,
Fir'd the young Drufus and the tuneful * Swain;
This born, in Arms conspicuously to shine,
And That, to blaze it in th' immortal Strain.
XVIII.
Then boldly wing O Muse, thy airy Flight,
Where Martinico's tow'ring Wonders rise,
Behold the Tumults of the thickest Fight,
Where ardent Warriors burn for glory's Prize!
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XIX.See the brave Youths, as breathes the Trump of War,
Tremendous rushing on the armed Foe!
Loud mingl'd Shouts assail the frighted Air,
And o'er the Field the crimson Currents flow.
XX.
Intrepid Chiefs their fiery Steeds impel,
Where glows the fury of the Battle dire,
Where shrill-voic'd Clamour lifts her stunning Yell,
And ghastly Terror rolls her Eyes of Fire.
XXI.
Th' unwarlike Foe as Britain's Chiefs advance,
Fly to the Hills, or shrink to dreary Caves;
O'er them black Horror shakes her Iron Lance,
And Desolation's baleful Banner waves.
XXII.
So when the princely Eagles sail the Sky,
If ought of meaner Fowl oppose their Way,
Soon driven headlong from the Realms on high,
Disastrous, vanquish'd on the Earth they lay.
XXIII.
Thus do her Sons the dastard Gaul subdue—
As late her Band by valiant MONCKTON led,
When thro' the western Air Victoria flew,
And round his Brows triumphant Garlandsshed.
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XXIV.Nor here the current of her Glory ends:
Stout Moro's doom'd to feel her martial Rage;
From her high Walls the vet'ran Chiefs she sends,
With Albion's Troop the manly Fight to wage.
XXV.
But what avails her vig'rous Combat all?
Weak are her Wiles, her num'rous Efforts vain!
Sure are her Tow'rs and Battlements to fall,
With wasteful Ruin on the carnag'd Plain.
XXVI.
Brave ALBEMARLE bright Wreathes of Glory crown,
Due to his Conduct thro' the Scenes of War;
Ages unborn shall speak his high Renown,
And Sires shall tell it to their infants Ear;
XXVII.
Pleas'd shall they say, "The Chief our Fathers led
"Where haughty Moro's tow'ring Pride aspir'd,
"He o'er the Field Havannah's Grandeur spread,
"Her Ramparts crush'd, and warlike Castles fir'd."
XXVIII.
Nor blush sweet Muse, thy Chaplet to bestow
On him who led the gallant Sons of Spain,
Endear'd with Virtue or in Friend or Foe,
Whether in Britain's or Iberia's Train.
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XXIX.So fought Rome's Hero, Africanus bold,
And so the dauntless Hannibal withstood,
Till Latium's Chief his pow'rful Force controll'd,
And lav'd his Courser's Hoofs in punic Blood.
XXX.
Thus shine the Acts of each succeeding Day—
Illustrious GEORGE, with blooming Honours crown'd,
In early Youth a glorious Race to sway,
In Arms victorious, as for Arts renown'd!
XXXI.
Give way ye Wonders of an ancient Date!
Enough have liv'd old Cressy and Poitiers;
Henry and Edward long have shone in State,
And Alfred's Name subdu'd a waste of Years!
XXXII.
These once o'er Europe spread their Terrors wide—
This fam'd for foiling cruel Danish Rage,
For virtuous Deeds and Learning's chiefest Pride,
And those for conquests of a later Age.
XXXIII.
But now new Worlds our Monarch's Scepter own;
What tho' the Deep disjoins the distant Land?
The Sea his Empire, and his Isle the Throne,
From whence to us he sends his mild Command!
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XXXIV.Far o'er this Tract of rich productive Soil
(No more the Region of a barb'rous Race)
His pow'r extends, and Wisdom deigns to smile,
And shed her Influence thro' its ample Space.
XXXV.
Here the good Swain is blest with fertile Fields,
Each wealthy Harvest nods with golden Grain,
Each fragrant Grove its varied Fruitage yields,
And Hills are whiten'd with the fleecy Train.
XXXVI.
O would the Muses, sweet celestial Maids!
In this fair Land vouchsafe to fix their Seat,
Not losing Thespia's ever pleasing Shades
Should the harmonious Sisters e'er regret.
XXXVII.
Much do we need their Aid, and sacred Lore,
To virtuous Acts to animate the Soul,
The great Idea in the Breast to pour,
And all the giddy Passions to controul!
XXXVIII.
To brand proud Folly, and bold Vice chastise,
To teach that Wealth is transitory Bliss,
To laud the Just, the venal Knave despise,
And shew that Virtue is true Happiness!
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XXXIXSuch are the Maxims of parnassian Kind,
With purest Counsels to amend the Heart,
* Delight should e'er be with instruction join'd,
Exalted Wisdom's Lessons to impart.
XL.
Nor think, ye Nine! a savage Race to meet,
Of ruthless Mortals wrapt in Ignorance,
Men ye will find with social worth replete,
Blest with the Seeds of Virtue and of Sense.
XLI.
If golden Industry can charm your Train,
Each Art mechanic, and fair Trade we boast.
If martial Feats can fix your tuneful Reign,
Our Youths are tutor'd in Britannia's Host.
XLII.
To such a People with rich Plenty crown'd,
Haste ye bright Choir! O haste ye graceful Band!
A Task delightful sure it will be found,
To form their Paths by your refining Hand.
XLIII.
For when the Sparks of Genius heedless rise,
Nor form'd by Precept is the human Breast,
The Talents all their heav'nly Use disguise,
And rankling Weeds the genial Soul infest.
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XLIV.But in the Sallies of a youthful Song
Spend not the Counsels of experienc'd Age,
These, let the sapient Sires of Verse prolong,
Skill'd in the Dictates of the hoary Sage.
XLV.
For thee, thy Country's Honours to proclaim
In Strains mellifluous, is Bliss supream!
To see the Efforts of the Muse's Flame,
Far, far surpassed by the glorious Theme!
FINIS.