^ 
 
 
 BOOKBINDERS,
 
 POEMS 
 
 AND 
 
 IMITATION'S,
 
 POEMS 
 
 ANH 
 
 BY 
 
 DANIEL CABANEL, 
 
 OF 
 
 LINCOLN'S INN, ESQ. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR R. BICKERSTAFF, 
 ESSEX STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1814.
 
 , CrmraCtMrt, Tmfte BJT.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 BRITISH SCENERY I 
 
 The Tocsin 67 
 
 Judaea Rediviva 97 
 
 Ode to Justice 107 
 
 Address to Hope 110 
 
 Deae Juventutis Fabulosae 114 
 
 Northumbrian Song of Triumph 119 
 
 Edward the Martyr to Elfrida 126 
 
 To a Lady on her Birth Day 128 
 
 Night, an Elegy 133 
 
 Lines composed at Keswick 136 
 
 at Ferrara 137 
 
 at Bologna 139 
 
 at Naples 143 
 
 at Rome 145 
 
 at Ilfracomb 147 
 
 at Teignmouth 149 
 
 at Luscombe 151 
 
 at Rottingdean 153 
 
 at Weymouth 154 
 
 at Pont y Mynaeh 155 
 
 i on an interesting Invalid 156 
 
 The Year 1814... 158 
 
 203OO56
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 IMITATIONS. 
 
 In lode dclla Liberia pastorale. (Guarini.) 163 
 
 La Partcnza. (Metastassio.}..* 168 
 
 Persuadere ad Amare. (Tasso.) 172 
 
 Sonetto. (Petrarca.) 174 
 
 Amante all* Amata. (Guarini.) 176 
 
 Soliloquio D' Amarilli 177 
 
 Stanze Amorose 182
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 J. HE two principal Poems in the present Collection 
 were originally published anonymously, and both very 
 favourably noticed by the British Critic for February, 
 1812. And the latter by the Critical Review for the 
 same Month. The first is the product of a variety of 
 rambles by one who has been a contemplative Wanderer 
 from his youth ; and whose admiration of British Land- 
 scape continues undiminished. The greater portion of 
 the other owes its existence to the influence of Italian 
 Skies, and Italian Scenery ; from which country it was 
 sent in an Epistle to a Friend more than twenty-eight 
 years ago: the Admonitory part has been since added, 
 and adapted to the peculiar circumstances of the Times 
 when it was first submitted to the Public. They arc 
 now reprinted with very considerable corrections and 
 additions, together with some omissions and alterations. 
 The Poem on the future Restoration of the Jews was 
 composed in the year 1811. The Ode to Justice was an 
 Exercise at the Charter House School, and fortunate
 
 viii ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 enough to obtain a place among the Carmina Carthu- 
 siana, Ann. Dom. 1780. The six Poems immediately 
 following were written about the same time; and the 
 remainder at the periods specified. The Imitations of 
 few specimens of several of the Italian Poets, con- 
 stituted a phasing and instructive amusement to the 
 Author during a Continental excursion in the years 
 1786 and 1787.
 
 POETICAL SKETCH. 
 
 FIRST PRINTED IN 1811. 
 
 
 BEAUTEOUS effect of that transcendent 
 
 cause, 
 
 Who, out of Nothing, form'd this goodly Ball ; 
 (Compound of hill and dale, irriguous mead, 
 And cultur'd upland, heath, and glassy lake, 
 Umbrageous forest lav'd by mountain stream, 
 And tenanted by birds of every plume, 
 And every note, and Ocean's wide expanse
 
 2 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Peopled with tribes of every various fin ;) 
 Genius of landscape picturesque ! to thee 
 I tune the strain didactic ; for thy charms, 
 From greenest Boyhood caught my eager gaze ; 
 And fir'd my infant Muse, on callow wing 
 To mount advent'rous, and attempt thy praise. 
 And oh! if since, I've sought thy best-lov'd 
 
 haunts 
 Through many a realm, or where the hardy 
 
 Swiss, 
 
 Beholds his icy mountains kiss the sky ; 
 If e'er 'mid Cambria's cataracts sublime 
 'Mid Scotia's wildest glens 'mid the rude scenes 
 I erne boasts my soul confess'd thee near,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 3 
 
 And glow'd with grateful wonder; bounteous 
 
 Power, 
 
 Deign now* with kind indulgence, to assist 
 My feeble efforts ! tint my various views 
 With thy chaste colouring, and my pencil aid 
 To paint the wonders of thy peerless scenes I- 
 Let others praise Valentia's blooming bounds, 
 Or Arno's boasted Vale ; be mine the spot 
 Laid out in Nature's rudest, grandest, style ! 
 Such as the Alpine traveller, that winds 
 Along the wizard Vale of Chamouni, 
 Surveys from Breval, or the ice-'clep'd sea 
 Of Montanvert ; or he that, daring, scales 
 
 Thee, hoary Chief of Mountains, sky-topt Blanc ! 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 On scenes like these ; th' atchievements of thy 
 
 hand, 
 
 Thou great Incomprehensible ! I gaze, 
 In silent adoration ! words are weak 
 To paint th' o'erflowings of a heart surcharged 
 Struggling to vent unutterable praise ! 
 
 Can Art enamel Nature ? can the toil 
 Of the thing form d surpass its Formers skill? 
 Earth teems with picturesque ; Landscapes arise, 
 In different climes, in different garbs, array 'd : 
 This, boasts grey rocks, and mountains clad 
 
 with pines, 
 And hoarse cascades ; that t olive-vested plains,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 5 
 
 And orange groves, whose odoriferous gales 
 Dispense around perfume. Asia presents 
 Her spicy forests ; her Savannah's green 
 Columbia spreads, and rivers swell'd to seas. 
 
 But when, returning from th' extremest point 
 Of cloud-capt Andes ; from Hindostan's plains, 
 And Ganges' sands of gold ; or Italy, 
 Enchanting land ! the traveller disdains 
 T' explore the wonders of his native soil ; 
 Why stays the Muse to turn his devious step 
 To scenes surpass'd by few ? (whether he roam 
 'Mid Alps or Appenines or Pyrenees 
 Or traverse Palestine Formosa's isle
 
 6 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Arabia Felix, fenc'd by Gulf marine 
 From Persian inroad or the land of Nile 
 
 Nubia or Abyssinia journeying still 
 From pole to pole ; from Orellana's shores, 
 To farthest Ind ; and Zembla's realms of frost) ; 
 Where Nature's self, with her own master hand, 
 Depicted beauty, or sublimity^- 
 Now^Tflwd, now lovely, landscapes she pourtray 'd, 
 And views according with her changeful mood * 
 The tree-topt hill, the flower-enamell'd vale, 
 Wide-branching forest, purplerblossom'd heath, 
 Gigantic mountain, and transparent stream 
 And all-protecting Ocean, to defend 
 From fell invader such distinguish'd scenes,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 7 
 
 Though not pre-eminent in beauty shine 
 The eastern shores of Anglia ; Norfolk boasts 
 Romantic Cromer: southward stretch the 
 
 plains 
 Of Suffolk Essex Hertford: tow'rd the 
 
 north 
 Cam leads, through sedgy banks, his peaceful 
 
 stream 
 
 That lingering, laves his Academic groves. 
 Sweet are the numbers of the classic muse ! 
 Man asks resources ; learning's ample page 
 Unfolds to view the treasur'd stores of Time; 
 Hence youth instruction gleans; hence letter 'd 
 
 ease
 
 8 BRITISH SCENERY, 
 
 Gilds life's meridian hour; and hoary Eld 
 Is fbrnish'd for the chambers of the grave, 
 
 Scarce from Carthusian pupilage releas'd, 
 Oxonia's cloistered solitudes receiv'd 
 My willing feet; Oxonia school of arts - 
 For Learning and for Loyalty renown'd. 
 Hail seats of Alfred ! hail sequester'd shades ! 
 Amid whose placid bounds, with noiseless flight 
 Years glided on ; books, and well-nurtur'd friends 
 Lent wings to Time : here Addison retir'd 
 To woo the Muse, in Magd'len's studious cells, 
 And high-arch'd walks; and here, in Wick- 
 ham's bowers,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 9 
 
 The brother Wartons caught poetic fire : 
 The Bard of Fancy, Memory oft recalls 
 With fond regret; in converse, as in song, 
 Alike conspicuous : gentle Hurdis, here. 
 The village annals in appropriate lays 
 Tun'd to no common Lyre : here pious Jones 
 Imbib'd the lore of India, doom'd to close, 
 (Far from his natal soil and friends belov'd) 
 A life of Christian worth, and letter'd feme. 
 Here Heber's stripling Muse pourtray'd the fate 
 Of Palestine in energetic strains; 
 With early academic laurels crown'd. 
 Long is the list, immeasurably long! 
 Of Alma Mater's worthies; from the age
 
 10 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Of Bacon, (deem'd with magic power endued 
 T' encompass England with a wall of brass) 
 To times, when Grenville occupies the chair, 
 Left vacant erst by Portland's buried worth. 
 Countless her gifted sons, since Alfred's hand 
 First laid the rudiments of future Fanes, 
 And Colleges, and Halls, and Domes superb ! 
 In Oxford's precincts, seated near the well 
 Of hapless Rosamond, (now strongly fenc'd, 
 To guard its crystal charge from touch impure,) 
 Proudly magnificent, (the ponderous work 
 Of Vanburgh, Architect of grand design 
 And princely structure,) Blenheim rears its head ; 
 Blenheim, the offering of a grateful land,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 11 
 
 To Marlbro's martial deeds, and trophied fame. 
 The British Annals teem with Patriots, Bards, 
 Heroes, and Sages vers'd in Wisdom's lore ; 
 Distinguish'd names that mock the scythe of 
 
 Time! 
 
 First in the Patriotic list appears 
 The name of Chatham ; Gallia's sons turn pale 
 For 'tis a name that levell'd with the dust 
 The might of Bourbon 'tis a name rever'd 
 By every true born Briton 'tis a name 
 That shall exist, though Britain's glories fade- 
 And Britain's navy rule the waves no more ! 
 Numerous her list of Heroes, from the age 
 Of Blake to Nelson ; and from Marlbro', fam'd
 
 12 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 For courage link'd with coolness; to the chief 
 Whose high exploits on Lusitania's shore 
 Have foil'd the boasted Captains of the Foe 
 Before unconquer'd ; long the line of Bards, 
 From Spenser Shakspeare Milton to the 
 
 date 
 
 Of Cowper; and the border Minstrel's lay. 
 " Thy forests, Windsor, and thy green retreats ;" 
 " The hill of Shene ; and Ham's embowering 
 
 " walks ;" 
 
 And all the beauties of the " Vale of Thames ;" 
 The Muse of Thomson, and of Pope, has given 
 To live in song ; what, to an humble Bard 
 Lake me remains, but to confirm their lays,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 13 
 
 And ratify the tale ? Arcadian scenes, 
 Rivals of Tempe, and Sicilian plains, 
 Accept the tribute of my grateful praise ! 
 'Mid England's provinces, unconquer'd Kent, 
 Conspicuous shines in chequer'd scenery, 
 From Dover's cliffs impending o'er the deep, 
 To Hawkhurst's richly interspers'd domain, 
 And Tunbridge, fam'd for rill medicinal, 
 And lovely prospect ; Health attends thee here, 
 Nurs'd in the lap of Beauty ; why recount 
 The aggregate of meadow, heath, and glen, 
 Woodland, and cultivation, that attract, 
 And charm the eye, with sweet variety ? 
 Lo ! foggy Sussex spreads her line of coast,
 
 14 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 From Hastings westward, to the shingly strand 
 Of Rott ingdean, obnoxious to the breeze ; 
 And garish Brighton and Southampton o'er 
 Dorsetia's downs to Weymouth's tranquil beach 
 That sleeps secure in Portland's rude embrace. 
 And thou, the youth whom artless numbers 
 
 charm 
 
 If e'er to Vecta's isle thy footsteps tend, 
 A lonely wanderer; deign to cast a thought 
 On him, who erst in simple melody 
 Breath'd soft the plaintive strain; till snatch'd 
 
 away 
 To climes remote from Mistress and from 
 
 friend
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 15 
 
 Loath to depart, his eye liv'd on the shore, 
 Till indistinctness dimm'd the range of sight: 
 For me ; tho' Bards have left thy name unsung, 
 No trace of Vernon in the rolls of Fame 
 Still shall my puny efforts be employ 'd, 
 From dark Oblivion's whelming shade to save 
 Thy genuine worth, and powers innate of song : 
 And, when o'er Vecta's varied scenes I roam, 
 Memory, in sighs, shall whisper Vernon's name; 
 And melancholy musings clothe my soul. 
 Neighbour of Neptune's fathomless domain, 
 The humid western promontory shows 
 A moisten'd surface drench'd with frequent 
 showers ;
 
 16 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Not unattractive to the eye of taste- 
 Witness the enchanting scenery of Foy f 
 High, on a wood-envelop'd mount, appear 
 Restormel's Princely ruins ivy-clad, 
 The seat of Cornwall's Dukes in days of yore : 
 Whence, from the sally-port, the well mail'd 
 
 chief 
 
 Outrush'd, with ponderous battle axe prepared 
 To charge the Foe ; returning home at eve, 
 (Clos'd the portcullis) deep libations drown 
 The sense of toil ; and sleep succeeds the feast. 
 Fractur'd the face of Devon ; Ilfracomb 
 Uprears her slaty cliffs above the wave ; 
 Dartmoor presents a desolate expanse
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 17 
 
 Studded with Tors ; nor must unnotic'd pass 
 Lidford's cascade; nor Brent's conspicuous 
 
 Fane, 
 
 Perch'd on a rock ; nor Pomeroy's remains 
 In picturesque seclusion ; nor the bay 
 Of Babicomb ; nor, in its shelter'd nook 
 Torquay; nor, Dartmouth, thy sequestered 
 
 mart. 
 
 Mount Edgecumbe boasts a Paradise marine; 
 Nor should Oblivion shade thy rivulet, 
 Arcadian Sidmouth : can the Muse forget 
 Linton's umbrageous mount, and rocky vale? 
 Or Limnouth's deep recess ? the banks of Teign 
 
 Teem with a waste of beauty ; speckled cliffs 
 
 c
 
 18 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Shaggy with brushwood; meads profuse of 
 
 flowers; 
 
 And every wild variety of view. 
 Beyond the sterile regions of Exraoor, 
 Expand the plains of fertile Somerset : 
 No common scenes attract th' observant eye 
 From Cheddar's giant cliffs, to where the stream 
 Of Wizard Wokey laves her woodland vale. 
 But who can paint the variegated range 
 Of British landscape lovely, or sublime, 
 Chequering the surface of her sea-girt shores? 
 Fruitless th' attempt of sublunary Bard ! 
 Tho* fill'd with love unspeakable of Him, 
 Th' excelling Author of his wond'rous works !
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 19 
 
 4 
 
 Who from the cradle, through each separate 
 
 stage 
 Of Youth and Manhood, check'd my devious 
 
 course ; 
 
 And kept my bark from sinking, 'mid the sea 
 Of worldly troubles, and the various ills 
 That "flesh is heir to ;" and while Life remains 
 (The Life He gave, the Life He still preserves) 
 Each morn and eve, to Him I'll raise the strain 
 Of gratitude for blessings undeserved ; 
 
 Too often disregarded ! Discontent 
 
 Should ne'er obtrude that Monster on our view- 
 A thankless Christian ! ! ! 
 
 c 2
 
 20 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 ) 
 
 Of slender nerve ill suited to the storm; 
 A calm retreat, in these tempestuous times, 
 Indulgent Heaven affords me ; stretch'd between 
 The rural tenements of Sion Hill, 
 And Lansdown's steep ascent ; while, far beneath, 
 Avona rolls her slowly winding wave, 
 Seen partially ; and oft at dusky eve, 
 The Nymph, with dank and dripping fingers, 
 
 spreads 
 
 Her misty mantle o'er the silent vale. 
 Mixt with sulphureous fumes, the steam extends 
 E'en to the foot of Sion ; Oh forbid ! 
 (Protecting Genius of these infant shades, 
 Rear'd by the hand of Parry;) Oh forbid!
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 21. 
 
 (Mounted on pinion of the sickly South) 
 Th' incorporated vapour to defile 
 Your empyreal realms! elastic pure- 
 The food of health, and friendly to the brain. 
 In dim perspective Cambria's Hills arise ; 
 And Dundry 's airy Tower : the nearskip boasts 
 Much sylvan beauty ; Weston's gurg'ling rill, 
 And deep embosom'd site : in prospect lie- 
 (Beyond the City's murky atmosphere) 
 Lyncombe, and Widcombe; with their wind- 
 ing lanes, 
 
 And trim suburban villas : Prior Park 
 (Once tenanted by Allen ; once the seat 
 Of active worth, and hospitable cheer ;
 
 22 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 By Pope and Warburton consign'd to fame :) 
 Arrests the view a lone dismantled pile 
 Of intellectual feasts and Attic glee 
 No more the scene! no more the Poet's theme! 
 Oft-tow'rd the pine-clad confines of the Down, 
 With desultory step I rove ; oft, turn 
 To where, secluded in the dell below, 
 Charlcombe ! thy consecrated fabric stands 
 A simple structure ; with its lonely yew 
 Shadowing the silent mansions of the dead : 
 Inducing contemplation meet for Man ; 
 For Man, th' appointed victim of the Worm ! 
 Since all, one day, must seek the " narrow house' 
 The Cradle, but the Prelude to the Grave!!!
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 23 
 
 Of Europe's towns the Queen, in structured 
 
 pride, 
 
 Bath stand's unrivall'd ; Bath, encircled round 
 With girdle picturesque : why need I name 
 Stoke? Abstone? Wick? the fairy dale that 
 
 winds 
 
 Through intermingled meadow, copse, and glade, 
 And villages sequester'd, (Freshford, Coombe, 
 And Claverton,) to Bradford's puny mart ? 
 Or Farley's rich domains, and antique Fane 
 Grac'd with the coffin'd dust of Hungerford ? 
 But tho' I praise the countless charms that 
 
 bloom 
 In Bladud's precincts ; deem not I admire
 
 24 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 The crouded Rout, or Ball's promiscuous throng, 
 Noxious with vapours dire : I ever shunn'd 
 The motley group, where, with complacent air, 
 Self-sapient Folly swells his frothy note, 
 And the light coxcomb shakes his mealy wings. 
 Ah ! what avails the titulary glare 
 Of poor Humanity? the equipage, 
 
 Studded with Heraldry, and garnish'd round 
 With party-colour'd menials ; drawn by steeds 
 
 In gaudy trappings proudly prancing on ? 
 Loaded, (perchance) with bloated Corpulence, 
 Purse-proud Vulgarity, or Nothingness 
 Prating aloud of blazon'd Ancestry ; 
 As if to call them from the peaceful grave,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 25 
 
 To shield their puny Progeny from scorn ! 
 " Revere thyself'' Well did the sage advise 
 
 Who penn'd the maxim; Folly 's confluence 
 
 \ 
 shun, 
 
 And Fashion's fickle brood ; led by caprice 
 
 To emulate the Rainbow, and adorn 
 
 This quicken'd clay with garbs of every form, 
 
 And every hue ; successively put on 
 
 First prais'd and then despis'd and then re^ 
 
 sum'd 
 
 Such is the round of Fashion ! could my lays 
 Subvert her empire ! make Religion, Ton ! 
 How would the Sun of Britain swift emerge 
 From mental darkness ! then the rife Gazette,
 
 26 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 (Bloated with crimes of every various die) 
 Would teem with records of Benevolence, 
 Unsullied Honour, and domestic bliss. 
 Tis not the social interchange of mind 
 The sprightly repartee th' enlivening glass 
 Awakes my censure ; such delights I taste 
 With more than common gust : but when the 
 
 cup 
 
 Ordain'd " to glad the heart of man" curtails 
 His brief existence brutifies his mind 
 And to the groveling tenant of the stye 
 Assimilates the " human form divine*" 
 Or when the rich repast, too much indulged, 
 To Gluttony degenerates; and forms
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 27 
 
 Of humours crude an undigested mass : 
 Well may the muse upraise her warning voice. 
 To stem the tide of pleasure unrestrain'd ! 
 For Moderation lends a Zest to life : 
 Ceaseless Amusement breeds satiety ; 
 Satiety disgust ; while Habit's power 
 Impels her Victim, undelighted, on 
 Through Recreation's senseless, joyless, round. 
 Was it for this the great Creator form'd 
 Man in his image ? gave him rules to guide 
 His erring footsteps in the paths of life ? 
 Bade him his Maker love ; his Maker fear; 
 Nor bow the neck to idols; but extend 
 His view to other realms beyond the Grave ?
 
 28 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Of dread importance to a Being, doom'd 
 Texist in endless Bliss, or endless Pain, 
 Is time mispent, and talents misemploy 'd ! 
 Are Cards and Dress the grand concerns of life ? 
 Is Dissipation " Beings end and aim *" 
 Man's designation here ? the star in the East 
 That points the way to Immortality ? 
 Why then, th' Almighty's fiat was misplac'd, 
 Who breath'd in man a soul the foe of Dust; 
 Tho* cag'd in matter, lingering to be free; 
 To burst its earthly prison, and rejoin 
 The Cherub choir, that hymn the great Triune 
 Incessant, and the Babe in manger laid 
 At Bethlehem, who gave his spotless life
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 29 
 
 A ransom for mankind ; unequall'd gift ! 
 Beyond conception of Mortality ! 
 Yet humbled and degraded for our sakes, 
 The Lord of life expir'd upon the cross ! 
 A man of many sorrows ! worn with grief 
 And measureless dismay ! bow'd down with 
 
 crimes, 
 
 The aggregated sum of all the race | 
 That sprung from Eve! and expiated all! ! ! 
 The great atonement made ; and pangs endur'd 
 Past mortal sufferance ; on his sun-bright throne, 
 
 Rob'd in divine effulgence; hemm'dwith Saints, 
 
 \ 
 
 Martyrs, and Angels, he triumphant sits ; 
 While countless Seraphim unceasing raise
 
 SO BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 The eternal Pean ; worthy thou to reign ! 
 Undoubted King of Kings ! and Lord of Lords ! 
 The Lamb of God ; to slaughter led for Man!!! 
 
 But humbler themes descriptive claim the 
 
 song, 
 
 And check digression's elevated strains. 
 Wilts boasts Stonehenge, by rustic witlings 
 
 deem'd 
 
 The work of Satan, who from eve till morn 
 Delv'd deep the infernal trench through treeless 
 
 plains 
 
 Where the lone shepherd saunters with his flocks. 
 Stourhead presents a wilderness of charms :
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 31 
 
 And grandeur marks Thynne's luminous abode. 
 Say, shall unheeded pass thy sylvan scenes 
 Province of Gloster ? whether Clifton's rocks 
 Precipitous, whose salutary rills 
 Bid gaunt Marasmus flee ; or Rodbro's vale ; 
 Or Malvern's shelvy steep ; arrest the step 
 Of Prospect-loving Wanderer leisure-blest ; 
 Or where Hygeia, rosy-visag'd maid, 
 Her tresses laves in Chelt'nam's healing springs. 
 Hail to the soil that usher 'd into life 
 The Bard of Avon ! softly flow its stream 
 To time's remotest date ! by Warwick's pile, 
 (Th 'imposing seat of warriors now no more,) 
 And that rude cliff, where Guy, (as legends tell)
 
 32 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 A self-inflicted penance long endur'd ; 
 
 Guy, fam'd for prowess ; still the Trav'ler sees 
 
 The penitential cave ; and living rill 
 
 That slak'd his thirst, with foliage overhung; 
 
 Tasteful retreat of Greathead ; why recall, 
 
 To tortur'd recollection? why recall, 
 
 To the sad Sire, the self-instructed youth, 
 
 Untimely nipt in blossom premature ? 
 
 Of early promise ! and of early fate ! 
 
 Dear to the eye of taste, there still remain 
 
 Deathless memorials of the Stripling's power 
 
 To bid the canvass live, and full pourtray 
 
 The soul's resemblance in the speaking face ; 
 
 Witness the Corsican's insidious look !
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 33 
 
 Witness the Cave of comfortless Despair! 
 Who has not heard of Lyttleton's retreat- 
 Umbrageous Hagley ? who not known the 
 
 worth, 
 
 Of him who mourn'd his Lucy's timeless fate 
 In elegiac strains ? or Leasowes' groves, 
 Responsive erst to Shenstone's rural pipe? 
 Shenstone, the pensive Bard, who there attun'd 
 His past'ral lays ; told Jesse's hapless tale ; 
 And Dawson's love, and melancholy doom. 
 Nor must Staffordia lose her meed of praise : 
 Nor Worcester's meads, through which Sabrina 
 
 winds 
 
 Her sinuous course ; nor proud Salopia's plains 
 
 D
 
 34 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Seen from the Wrekin's sky -aspiring peak ; 
 Nor Kymin's terrass'd height ; nor Vaga's stream 
 That fructifies Pomona's favourite soil : 
 Tintern's monastic ruin strikes the eye 
 Of heedless Wanderer on her margin green, 
 And curtain'd cliffs ; where oft the Artist takes 
 His silent stand, and limns the mould'ring pile. 
 Cambria presents a many-featur'd coast, 
 And rude interior; deep indented vales 
 Worn by cascades, and masses rear'd aloft ; 
 Snowdon, Plinlimmon, and the crag-crown'd 
 
 bulk 
 
 Of Cader Idris; stretching o'er a tract 
 Of vassal hills, and torrent- water 'd dales.
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 35 
 
 Mawddach, and Pistil Cain ; and seaward, on 
 To Barmouth's strand, and Harlech's time- 
 worn towers. 
 
 Loud roars the surgeon Tenby's cavern'd shore. 
 Nor distant far, Kilgarren's turrets lean 
 O'er Tivy's subject wave : the vale of Neath 
 Resounds with cataracts, from Melincourt, 
 And Aberdyllis, to the district wild 
 Of Ystradvelty ; by the currents fed, 
 Of Purthin, Tragath, Hepsey, and the stream 
 Of subterranean Melta, from a cave 
 Emerging fast by Hepsey f s sheltering curve ; 
 A watery sheet impervious to the storm, 
 When clouds embattled pour their volumes down . 
 
 D2
 
 36 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 A tract o'er iron-bowell'd mountains, leads 
 To Merthyr's seats volcanic ; day and night 
 The fusing furnace spouts sulphureous flame. 
 Wild are thy moorsCwmystwith ! deep thy glens 
 Scoop'd by the torrent; Mynach's double arch 
 Breasting the chasm'd cliff embrown'd with 
 
 shade, 
 
 (From ledge to ledge whence, repercussive, falls 
 A chain of cataracts, with mingled roar,) 
 Presents a scene which Fancy's magic touch 
 Can scarce embellish ! Hafod next appears 
 With Alpine bridge suspended o'er the gulf, 
 Chain'd to the rifted rock; th' indignant 
 stream,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 37 
 
 Chaf'd by conflicting pebbles, brawls along 
 To Aberystwith, whence, in fragile bark 
 Freighted to Newry, I advent'rous pass'd 
 Th' opposing wave, and gain'd lerne's shore. 
 Hills rise on hills; o'er mountain, mountain 
 
 peers ; 
 
 Around the spot from faithful Gelert nam'd ; 
 (Hapless and ill requited, here a grave, 
 The murder 'd guard from his repentant Lord 
 Received, from thence the place Beddgelert 
 
 call'd, 
 ( The grave of Gelert,) stretching tow'rd the 
 
 straits 
 Of Menai, on to Mona's Druid' isle.
 
 38 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Nor must the Muse omit old Conway's cliffs 
 Skirting the deep ; from whence the maddening 
 
 Bard, 
 
 His hoary locks wide streaming to the wind, 
 Denouncing vengeance on the scepter'd crest 
 Of ruthless Edward, Cambria's fellest foe 
 (As sung the lyre of Gray) indignant plung'd; 
 Instant engulph'd amid th' o'erwhelming surge, 
 And swallow 'd in its fathomless Abyss. 
 Hail mystic scenes ! romantic visions hail ! 
 Where (were not sublunary bliss deny'd 
 To mortal man, by Heaven's all-wise decree,) 
 Th' extatic soul might wander unconfin'd, 
 Nor lift to happier realms its lengthen'd view;
 
 BRITISH SCENERY, 39 
 
 But chain'd to dust; the nobler part extinct 
 Pant still to be a worm, and linger here. 
 Happy the man whose well-accorded mind 
 Tumultuous passions flee ! with heart attun'd 
 To Nature's minstrelsy ; whose every sense 
 Vibrates responsive to the tuneful choir 
 That line the hedge, or quiver on the bough, 
 Loading the gale with wild untutor'd sounds. 
 To him this " visible diurnal sphere," 
 Surmounted by its glorious canopy, 
 Imparts sensations, noble vast sublime- 
 Such as the plodder on this earthly scene 
 Nor feels ; nor comprehends ; a moving clod 
 Absorpt in love of gain : to whom this globe,
 
 40 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 This wonder of Creation, yields no charms, 
 Disrob'd of self; contracted narrow self! 
 Interest his God, to whom he immolates 
 Each finer feeling, and each nobler aim. 
 I love the child of Nature, form'd to taste 
 Her glowing prospects ; o'er her varied views 
 To gaze with eye of rapture ; and adore 
 Th' Almighty cause ! th' Artificer supreme ! 
 Fruitless the chase of him who pants for wealth 
 Or worldly grandeur : what is wealth, or power, 
 To the poor tenant, whose precarious term 
 Each hour may cancel ? every moment end ! 
 Why, mad Ambition, covet wreaths that fade? 
 Grasp at immortal palms, more fitting Man,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 41 
 
 And twine celestial laurels round thy brow! 
 More blest the commoners, who know no wants 
 But those of Nature ; on her bounty fed ; 
 Ah ! happier far than those that proudly boast 
 Much glittering trash in ample coffers stor'd, 
 To purchase what? too oft no trivial share 
 Of fancied ills, and mind-distracting cares; 
 Men hackney'd in the intercourse of men : 
 A mean terrestrial herd, with visage prone, 
 And dark'ned eyes, that blink the light of 
 
 heaven ; 
 
 Unvers'd in records of futurity : 
 Nor reek that He, whose voice omnipotent 
 Gave Being birth, and form'd th' amazing whole ;
 
 42 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Hath, by his word unchangeable, declar'd, 
 Not in the number of possessions here 
 Consists the life of transitory Man ; 
 But in conforming to his laws divine : 
 Such the decree of Him, whose dread controul 
 Confounds the wisdom of the worldly wise, 
 And couples Knowledge with Humility. 
 Throughout the volume of created things, 
 The Christian student sees th' Almighty's hand 
 And owns the work divine ! whate'er the theme, 
 Through every varying subject,matchless still ! ! ! 
 
 Scant is the Cambrian's cottager's repast, 
 And mean his shed ; tho' form'd of British mould
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 43 
 
 Unconscious of alloy. Nor, far remov'd 
 
 England's Vale Royal, fam'd for fruitful kine 
 
 Profuse of juice nectareous ; Lupus sway'd, 
 
 In elder times, her Norman citadel, 
 
 And cowslip-scented pastures : safe from foes 
 
 In wall'd security, the Palatine 
 
 Invasion's haughty menace proudly scorn'd. 
 
 Daughters of Albion listen to my strain ! 
 If rural scenes, and sweet simplicity, 
 Can charm the Fair, the strain, I ween, may 
 
 please : 
 
 Perchance instruct : oft in the lowly cot 
 Dwell white-rob'd Truth, and seemly Modesty,
 
 44 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 % 
 
 Known by the ready blush and down cast look 
 That paint the guileless soul. Beside a heath 
 Where Deva, erst by Britons sacred deem'd, 
 Through many a glen glides murmuring to the 
 
 main, 
 
 Long liv'd a peasant pair ; their cottage rear'd 
 Full on a slope, and back'd with hazel copse, 
 Compos'd a simple rural solitude. 
 Up with the lark Amyntas rose to tend 
 His fleecy charge, and snuff the fragrant morn. 
 Nor on the winter eve were absent means 
 To cheat the lingering hours ; in greener days 
 The Sage imbib'd the love of lettered lore, 
 And well could ken whate'er of varied theme
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 45 
 
 Britannia's Bards in strains mellifluous sung : 
 Though age long since had chang'd his locks 
 
 to grey, 
 
 Firm on his brow sat reason unimpair'd, 
 And bearded wisdom ; while, at evening's close 
 The good old man unlock 'd his secret store 
 Of Knowledge, treasur'd from the chequer'd 
 
 scenes 
 
 Of many a year, and pour'd th' instructive lay. 
 Temperance presided o'er their meals, unskill'd 
 To burthen Nature with the oppressive load 
 Of unconcocted aliment ; their wants 
 Were few, and soon supplied ; while Peace and 
 Health
 
 46 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Diffus'd perpetual sunshine o'er their minds. 
 One only Daughter bless'd their eve of days, 
 Gentle, and good, and beauteous ; tho' her 
 
 form 
 
 No glossy vesture deck'd, or suit superb : 
 The rich tiara, and the purple robe, 
 Are impotent to lend the movement grace, 
 Or add the dignity that virtue gives. 
 Such Anna was ; nor was desert outweigh 'd 
 By bland indulgence; for her artless soul 
 Was pure as upland Ether ; mild as showers 
 That bid the varied vernal landscape bloom. 
 Far from the confluence of the great and gay, 
 (Those foes profess'd of Time, that heedless pi unge
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 47 
 
 In Dissipation's wide engulphing sea, 
 Lest Heaven's best gift amidst this vale of tears 
 Celestial Reason should assert her sway, 
 Pointing the swift, tho' silent, lapse of years 
 That silver o'er the unsuspecting head ;) 
 Far from the magic goblet drugg'd with death- 
 In all-accomplish'd Innocence she shone. 
 Till, from the crowded mart of Fashion, came 
 A youth of faultless form, but mind deprav'd 
 Skill'd in Seduction's wily arts, estrang'd 
 From principle and goodness : why recount 
 The perjur'd process of a heart betray 'd? 
 As droops the pendent Flowret, when its term 
 Of blown existence frosty winter ends,
 
 48 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 And dries its leafy honours ; so appeared 
 Sad Anna's faded form, whose spotless mind, 
 Once emblem of the whitest Lily, shone. 
 Yet Spring's soft breath shall bid the Flow'ret 
 
 rise 
 
 Rear its green head, and renovate its frame 
 But what shall bud the blasted stem of Honour ? 
 Or bid lost Innocence grow white once more ? 
 Three tedious Moons the anguish'd Mourner 
 
 pin'd ; 
 
 The fourth arose to glimmer on her tomb. 
 Her Parents sorrowing pass'd their short' ned 
 
 Years: 
 Mistaken pair ! whose witless trust betray 'd
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 49 
 
 Their daughter to the tempter, in the school 
 Of Fashion and of Folly deeply read, 
 Poisoning her ear with tales of pomp and glare, 
 The gew gaw meteors of the simple mind. 
 Can Pomp or Power enlarge life's narrow 
 
 span? 
 
 Can Riches pay the forfeit of misdeeds 
 At Heaven's eternal Bar ordain'd to meet 
 Just retribution? trust the faithful Muse 
 
 A lowly state is more than Grandeur blest, 
 If Peace and Virtue sanctify the Vale. 
 Numerous the ills of public life ; assail'd 
 By low-soul'd Envy, and th' envenom'd tongue 
 Of carping Democrat ; no worth escapes 
 
 E
 
 50 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Th' obstreperous fry ; whose sacrilegious hands 
 From Pitt's unsmirched brow would pluck the 
 
 wreath 
 
 Which aye shall bloom unfading o'er his urn I 
 And oh, my country ! much I grieve to note 
 A crime of deepest die : th' historic page 
 Charg'd with memorials of these latter times, 
 Shall tell, how 'mid assembled Senators 
 Within the purlieus of St. Stephen's walls 
 Grim Murder took his stand ; and singled out 
 No common victim! had the Villain fell'd 
 Some pseudo Patriot, or fierce Demagogue ; 
 (Firebrands, and poisoners of the populace) 
 Such prating plagues the nation well had spar'd !
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 51 
 
 Deem not I plead Assassination's cause, 
 Stampt with the curse of Heaven whatever 
 
 hand 
 
 Inflict the blow ! but when its vengeance falls 
 On heads like Perceval's ; the mortal stroke 
 Descends with tripled bane : the steersman gone, 
 The vessel of the state is turn'd adrift; 
 Left shelterless to struggle with the storm, 
 And shun th* engulphing rocks of Anarchy ! 
 Righted at length, the rising gales of Hope 
 Inflate the canvass, and her steady course 
 Propel far from the whirlpools of Despair : 
 And may that Power that plumes the Whirl- 
 wind's wing, 
 
 2
 
 52 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 That stills the People's rage ; or guides the storm 
 Full on its destin'd point, protect our Isle ! 
 The Constitution now our strenuous aid 
 Imperatively claims, th' unrivall'd boast 
 Of Britons ! by our wise Forefather's plann'd, 
 On Freedom's base the glorious Fabric stands. 
 Woe to the impious hand that strives to mine 
 Its firm foundations ! woe to him who dares 
 Th' amalgamation nice of Church and State 
 Subject to Foreign influence ! one by one 
 Remove its barriers ; till the corner stone 
 At length gives way ; and Britain is no more ! 
 I love the tone of Charity ; it speaks 
 The Christian ! Toleration too I love ;
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 53 
 
 And Persecution for Religion's sake 
 
 My soul revolts at I But I deprecate, 
 
 Concession and Encouragement to those, 
 
 Th' Adherents of th' Apocalyptic whore 
 
 Smarting beneath predicted chastisement ; 
 
 Lest, haply, made partakers of their plagues, 
 
 This favour'd Nation court the lash of Heaven ! 
 
 For well I know Infallibility 
 
 Is God's Prerogative ; no Attribute 
 
 Of frail Mortality ; tho' plac'd on high 
 
 Seated in chair Pontifical and arm'd 
 
 With more than Apostolic power ; but deem'd, 
 
 (By superficial heads, and lukewarm hearts) 
 
 " The Baby of a Girl .-"Indifference
 
 54 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 To things divine, (on selfish schemes intent) 
 Rob'd in the garb of Liberality 
 (The ignis fatuus of a venal age) 
 Misnam'd, and quoted for the worst of ends; 
 Is Treason in the follower of the Cross!!! 
 
 Of British prospect, in its various forms 
 Much yet remains unsung ; the sparry stores 
 That line the cavern'd entrails of the Peak ; 
 Cromford's romantic site ; Matlock, (refresh'd 
 By Derwent rippling through her wood-fring'd 
 
 glen;) 
 
 The castellated dale of Middleton ; 
 And Buxton's moorland district bleak and bare*.
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 55 
 
 Next Sherwood, once responsive to the horn 
 Of outlaw Robin and his green-wood clan, 
 (As ancient legends tell) invites the strain; 
 Now grac'd with Ducal Mansions; Norfolk's 
 
 chief 
 Bordering on Worksop; Clumber's smiling 
 
 bounds, 
 
 By Pelham's liberal taste adorn 'd ; and last 
 Welbeck's majestic turrets clad in shade.- 
 Few are the charms of Lincoln's marsh or wold ; 
 Yet can she boast her Minster's sacred Fane 
 Rival of York ; and Boston's tower unique ; 
 And Louth's conspicuous spire; and Hermit 
 
 cell,
 
 56 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Ingenious work of Jolland's curious hand ; 
 Of small dimensions, but of nice design, 
 Comprising much of mind in little space.- 
 Ebor can boast a spacious tract, enrich'd 
 With many-colour'd landscape, discrepant 
 In form and hue, from Fountain's hallow'd pile, 
 And Studley's green diversified domain, 
 Coastward to Scarbro's billow-beaten shore. 
 In mountain prospect Craven towers sublime, 
 By giant Ingleborough over-peer'd, 
 And loftier Whernside ; Gordale's precipice 
 Appals the gazer's eye ; and Weathercot 
 Delves through the central soil her deep cascade. 
 Near Durham's confines bounded by the Tees,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 57 
 
 England unfolds to view her land of lakes, 
 Keswick, and Coniston, and Windermere ; 
 And, (from Dunmallet's piny top descry'd) 
 Ulswater, fed by Emont's silver stream. 
 Kirk owald's precincts, vocal with the sound 
 
 A 
 
 Of cascatellas rushing down the steeps 
 
 To rocky-channell'd Eden, court the eye 
 
 Of Tourist journeying northward tow'rd the 
 
 mound, 
 
 Uprais'd by Roman hands in days of yore 
 T'arrest th' incursions of their painted foes. 
 Perch'd on the Grampian ridge, in gloomy state, 
 Shrouded in vapour, Scotia's Genius cow'rs 
 And eyes her wide domain : then mounting, soars
 
 58 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 On dusky pinion o'er th' unequal range 
 
 Of billowy mountains; where th' astounded 
 
 sense 
 
 Is borne aloft on Contemplation's wings 
 To realms beyond the stretch of mortal ken. 
 In landscape diverse, Caledonia shines 
 Pre-eminent; of aspect grand and wild ; 
 Land of the towering Pine, and wizard Glen ! 
 Matchless her Lochs and Rivers; need I name 
 Lomond's lagune chequer 'd with many an Isle, 
 Distinct in garb and form ? Athol's domain ; 
 And thine Argyle ! boast intermingled tracts 
 Romantic, rich with forest, frith, and dell, 
 And limpid brook o'er canopied with shade.
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 59 
 
 Behold where, through a Boreal Tempe, wind 
 The Clyde and Leven ! that, with swelling sails, 
 The wealth of Glasgow, loaded ; this, renown'd 
 By him the Bard who cradled on her banks, 
 Fram'd for his Parent stream the Doric lay. 
 The gifted Ploughman, on the banks of Ayr, 
 With magic touch struck deep the tuneful shell. 
 The change of Seasons, and the calm delights 
 Of Industry, descriptive Thomson sung 
 In artless lays ; the happiest elements 
 Composed his frame ; no venom'd satire soil'd 
 A pen devoted to the cause unique 
 Of Nature and of God : Philanthropy 
 Possest his inmost soul ; and Britain's weal
 
 60 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Incessant sounded from his pensive string. 
 Needless to tell of Scotland's ample store 
 Of literary wealth ! for Intellect, 
 Amid the rugged regions of the North, 
 Ripens as well, as in the gilded plains 
 Where warmer suns, and richer harvests rise. 
 For force of mind, and love of classic lore, 
 Conspicuous are her sons ; to toil inur'd 
 From greenest years; by high atchievement 
 
 known, 
 
 And virtuous daring ; men of temperate souls ; 
 An iron-sinew'd race; of cool resolve, 
 Deliberately brave and fix'd as Fate ! 
 Who has not heard of Wallace ? Patriot chief!
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 61 
 
 Or Cheviot's deadly feud ? " To hunt the Deer 
 " With hound and horn Earl Douglas took his 
 
 way :" 
 
 There, in dire conflict with th' opposing might 
 Of dauntless Percy, fam'd for deeds of arms, 
 The gallant Chieftain fell ! the fatal chase 
 Became the theme of legendary Bards. 
 Taymouth's sequester'd vale, and lake of glass, 
 No common notice claim: Breadalbane owns 
 These fairy regions ; by his fostering care, 
 The highland craggs are fledg'd with springing 
 
 shade, 
 
 And Arcady is " open'd in the Wild!" 
 What tho' for many a league a desert drear,
 
 62 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 Heathy and treeless, darkens on the view, 
 From eastern Angus, to the ruder shores 
 Of utmost Kilda ? soft urbanity 
 Pervades the plaided children of the soil: 
 Amid their turf built huts in peace they dwell, 
 Unenvying and unenvied by the crowd : 
 Simple their lives ; but tainted not with vice 
 Ambition Avarice those terrestrial fiends 
 That tempt frail man to barter Heaven for Earth, 
 And, for a shadow, quit substantial bliss. 
 Region denuded, desolate, and drear, 
 I hail thy brown expanse ! full on my soul 
 The Chiefs of Morven rush ; in mental view 
 I see the Warrior-Bard attune his harp,
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 63 
 
 And hear the sound symphonious; Fingal's 
 
 form 
 
 Gigantic, seated in the hall of shells, 
 Imagination bodies to my sight. 
 Of mild demeanour are the Scottish Dames, 
 Nor uninform'd ; more skill'd in useful arts, 
 Than frippery graces ; like the Gossamer, 
 These fade and shrivel at the touch of Time ; 
 While those still shine, unconscious of decay, 
 With added lustre to the close of life. 
 Of different texture from their quondam Queen, 
 Ill-starr'd Maria ! whose untimely fate 
 Obscur'd the glories of Eliza's reign. 
 Nurs'd in the bosom of luxurious Gaul,
 
 64 BRITISH SCENERY. 
 
 The all-accomplish'd Dame imbib'd the lore 
 Of winning softness, of attractive smiles, 
 And courtly graces ; while the mind produced 
 A specious harvest of unwholesome weeds, 
 That chok'd Religion's seed, and undermin'd 
 The strength of Reason ; neither purpose firm, 
 Nor fix'd resolve, could harbour in a soul 
 Dissolv'd in pleasures ; in the net ensnar'd 
 Of worldly grandeur ; by the fawning crew 
 Sated with adulation : nerveless she 
 To wield the rod of Empire ; reconcile 
 The jarring interests of contending chiefs 
 And hush the waves of turbulence to peace. 
 Temperate, but firm, should be the arm of Power :
 
 BRITISH SCENERY. 65 
 
 A friend to Peace, when Honour sheathes the 
 
 sword 
 
 , / 
 But " lion mettled" when Britannia's weal 
 
 Impels her warlike progeny to arms : 
 Then let the Despot fear ! tho' million slaves, 
 In martial panoply begird him round, 
 Our free-born sons shall shake them to the 
 winds !
 
 THE TOCSIN; 
 
 AN ADMONITORY AND DESCRIPTIVE 
 
 POEM, 
 
 FIRST PRINTED IN 1811. 
 
 YET forty days ! (prophetic Jonah cry'd) 
 Yet forty days! and Nineveh's destroy' d!~ 
 Struck with the warning voice, her sons repent, 
 Their hair dishevell'd, and their garments rent ; 
 The Monarch own'd th' Almighty's sentence 
 
 just, 
 
 And soil'd his purple mantle in the dust ; 
 Degrading sackcloth o'er his limbs was spread- 
 Repentant ashes sprinkled on his head. 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 The God of Mercy heard them when they 
 
 cried 
 
 And laid th' uplifted Thunderbolt aside ! 
 When now o'er Europe's widely weltering 
 
 plains, 
 
 The lurid star of Desolation reigns ; 
 When the destroying Angel, hovering near, 
 Scatters the seeds of Pestilence and War ; 
 Let Britain, humbled in the dust, deplore 
 The deadly crimes that taint her favour'd shore ; 
 Her alter'd manners her unbounded pride 
 And cast her rags of Righteousness aside; 
 To Mercy's source prefer incessant pray'r, 
 Her sins to pardon, and her sons to spare !
 
 69 
 
 Hail to the Bard, whose truth-attested rhymes 
 Can lend the passing hour to after times! 
 Hail to the Seer, with delegated power 
 To make Mankind improve the passing hour! 
 In each event, Jehovah's hand espy ; - 
 In each occurrence, read the Deity ; 
 Arrest the Worldling in his mad career ; 
 And teach the daring Infidel to fear! 
 And, (e'er the solemn silence of the tomb 
 Excludes all hope, and ratifies his doom,) 
 Amend the error of his former ways 
 
 / 
 
 And tune his alter'd note to songs of Praise. 
 
 Oh ! might my lays contribute to enrol 
 
 In Heaven's high Archives, one immortal soul!
 
 70 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Take, Worldling, take thy boasted Wealth, 
 
 and Power- 
 But leave to me the heart-approving hour! 
 The hour that gives foretaste of joys above, 
 Of boundless Mercy, and redeeming Love. 
 But while around the storm of battle roars- 
 And fell Napoleon threats our sister shores ; 
 Why in light sports th' important time employ? 
 In song and dance, and all the maze of Joy ? 
 Why fly the vacant hours in airy ring ? 
 Why wake to ecstasy the trembling string ? 
 Though Braham waft our senses to the skies, 
 And Handel's strains in powerful grandeur 
 
 rise;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 71 
 
 Buoyant on air the Power of Music floats, 
 And female voices add their mellow notes : 
 Soft as the sober-suited Nightingale, 
 Hous'd in the thicket of some silent vale, 
 At eve's still closing pours the song of woe ; 
 So soft so sweet the melting accents flow ; 
 Now, wild as whispering osiers breathe the strains, 
 Or breezes mild that kiss the vernal plains ; 
 The roof resounds with trills and warblings clear, 
 And the long cadence lingers on the ear. 
 Degenerate Romans in the ranks advance, 
 Shriek the shrill note, or thread the mazy dance ; 
 FromLatian realms, and genial climes,they come, 
 Ee'n from the precincts of degraded Rome !
 
 72 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Leaving their Parent soil, and fruitful plains, 
 For rougher regions but for greater gains. 
 
 Enchanting Italy ! in days of yore 
 
 My youthful footsteps press'd thy favoured shore : 
 
 Land of green forests, and pellucid streams, 
 Of Fairy landscapes, and poetic dreams, 
 Land of the shadowy mount the shelving dell 
 How could thy Poet bid such scenes farewell ! 
 Thy beauties did the love of verse infuse, 
 And rapt his soul in Nature and the Muse. 
 Ethereal Poesy ! whose magic power, 
 Can still the breast 'mid sorrows darkest hour ; 
 Borne on thy wings th* unbodied spirit flies 
 Mounts up aloft, and claims its kindred skies ;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 73 
 
 Thy Philters can the ills of life assuage, 
 Enrapture Youth, and thaw the frost of Age; 
 Give joys to which no Worldling can aspire, 
 The slave of Earth, and Pris'ner in the mire ; 
 For search around, how rare to see combin'd 
 The man of Money with the man of Mind ! 
 Can the low soul, concenter'd in itself- 
 Consuming days and nights in heaping pelf, 
 Feel the keen glow, when Inspiration reigns, 
 With force electric through the Poet's veins? 
 When dead to sublunary hopes and fears, 
 The World, with all its baubles, disappears 
 While Fancy's power anticipates the day, 
 When the freed soul shall quit its cage of clay !
 
 74 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Some seek a foreign clime, in hope to gain 
 Respite from woe, or slow-consuming pain ; 
 Courting Oblivion's aid, the tortur'd breast 
 To soothe, and give the wounded spirit rest. 
 Mistaken Man ! whose erring views expand 
 Beyond the limits of thy destin'd land ; 
 That land, where Liberty's propitious smile, 
 With countless blessings crowns her fav'rite Isle. 
 In vain (invoking oft the prosp'rous gale,) 
 We spread to Europe's marts the swelling sail ! 
 In vain (mad search for happiness,) explore 
 The world of waters, and the Distant shore ! 
 For not beyond the vast Atlantic main, 
 Perennial Peace asserts her golden reign ;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 75 
 
 'Mid Polar regions, and perpetual snow, 
 
 Still throbs the breast, still bursts the sigh of 
 
 woe. 
 
 No abject vassal of a clime, the mind, 
 Unchanging still in varying scenes, we find ; 
 'Mid frozen tracts 'mid wastes of solar day 
 The sprightly lark still trills her jocund lay ; 
 And, though transplanted to a lighter soil, 
 Where mirth and dance the circling hours be- 
 guile, 
 
 Still Philomel her love-lorn state shall wail- 
 Still load, with pensive melody, the gale. 
 Pleasure, too oft, attracts the vagrant train, 
 To the bland confines of Italia's plain,
 
 76 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Where soft delights, with melting music join'd, 
 Unfit for manly toil, the nerveless mind. 
 Others, intent on nobler aims, explore 
 Her ruin'd structures, and her classic shore ; 
 Anxious to view the clime, where Fame unfurl'd 
 Her hundred banners to th' admiring world; 
 Those favour'd realms where double summers 
 
 bloom, 
 Where tow'rs, in great decay, Imperial Rome. 
 
 X 
 
 But first description's pencil France demands, 
 For Gallia first on Fashion's tablet stands ; 
 
 There Pleasure reigns supreme, nor knows 
 
 controul, 
 Debases reason, and unmans the soul ;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 77 
 
 There airy sports the vacant hours employ-^ 
 There the light native trips the round of 
 
 A noble monument let Gallia raise, 
 
 In dress and fashion still be her's the bays ; 
 
 Hereafter let recording annals tell, 
 
 That in amusements Gallia could excel : 
 
 i i 
 
 Her splendid palaces extending wide ; 
 Her Theatres superb; her structured pride; 
 Still let her boast ; of gaudy nothings proud : 
 Still be her natives, trifling, vain, and loud. 
 But may ingenuous Worth, and Virtue, 
 
 smile 
 Qn the blunt manners of our ruder Isle !
 
 78 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 While steady Wisdom guides each well-weigh'd 
 
 plan, 
 And Worth, not outward trappings, speaks the 
 
 man; 
 
 Nor e'er may Gallic levity, infest 
 The nobler mansion of a British breast ! 
 But lo ! aloft the towering Alps arise 
 Rear their gigantic heads, and seem to prop 
 
 the skies ! 
 
 See where Geneva's lengthen'd lake, displays 
 Romantic scenes that claim the meed of 
 
 praise! 
 
 Behind Savoia's icy hills appear, 
 That mock the influence of the changing year;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 79 
 
 While 'twixt the cliffs impetuous hurries on 
 The dashing fury of the rapid Rhone. 
 These blooming bounds, historic records show, 
 Gave thy eccentric genius birth, Rousseau; 
 Would that the Muse thy monument could raise, 
 And give thy wit and manners equal praise ! 
 But Virtue every tie, save Truth, disdains 
 Exculpates none and asks impartial strains. 
 Unhappy man ! in breasts too prone to feel 
 With dire effect thy noxious maxims steal ; 
 While to their cost, lamenting Parents find 
 Their pleasing poison taint the tender mind. 
 Great advocate for Nature's empire, say, 
 If she alone should rebel Passions sway,
 
 80 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Why Reason given her errors to controul? 
 And why, that useless thing th' Immortal Soul? 
 Instinct sufficient for the meaner beast 
 Had then suffic'd to guide the human breast. 
 Happy the man who Cenis* height attains, 
 While the last vintage lingers on the plains. 
 E'er Frost the floods with icy fetters binds ; 
 E'er from their caverns rush the warring winds ; 
 Amaz'd he sees another world appear 
 Indulgent seasons, and a fairer year : 
 With milder influence breathes the soften 'd gale, 
 That waves the leafy pride of Suza's vale. 
 Fain would I paint the richly varied scene, 
 Where rise thy stately turrets, blest Turin f
 
 THE TOCSIN. 81 
 
 Adolphus there, in war and council, great, 
 Made thee (obscure before) a regal seat : 
 When placid Cynthia sheds her silver beam, 
 How sweet to wander by thy classic stream, 
 Far fam'd Eridanus ! and view around, 
 Thy smiling banks with waving forests crown'd. 
 Sea-circled Venice next demands the strain, 
 A wond'rous city, seated in the main; 
 Queen of the Adriatic wave to thee 
 Italia ow'd her valued liberty ; 
 The haughty Ottoman long felt thy sword, 
 That spurn'd subjection to a Pagan Lord. 
 Hail Rome ! uniquely great 'twas thine t'obtain 
 Ascendancy supreme o'er humbled Man ; 
 
 G
 
 82 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Since not to martial deeds alone confin'd 
 Thy power could vassalize the nobler mind: 
 Thy conquering legions laid the mighty 
 
 low- 
 Thy breath made Europe's proudest monarchs 
 
 bow. 
 
 E'en now some remnants of thy pristine state 
 Remain stupendous, and in ruin great 
 Entire Vitruvius' matchless Dome appears, 
 Th* increasing wonder of successive years; 
 Nor shall thy structure, Buonarotti, claim 
 Inferior notice in the rolls of Fame. 
 The Amphitheatre's august remains 
 The mutilated shafts, and mouldering fanes
 
 THE TOCSIN. 83 
 
 The Arch triumphal richly storied o'er 
 Attest the arts of Rome in days of yore : 
 No limits could her general Empire bound 
 For Genius, Arms, and Eloquence renown'd ! 
 'Twas here, the glory of the Mantuan plains, 
 Immortal Maro, pour'd his polish'd strains ; 
 Here Tasso with poetic phrenzy glow'd ; 
 Here Ariosto's magic numbers flow'd ; 
 Here Metastasio dramatized his lays ; 
 Here Petrarch tun'd his reed to Laura's praise ; 
 And here recumbent in the myrtle grove 
 Soft Guarini smooth'd the strain of love ; 
 Sweet son of harmony how rich thy song ! 
 
 What honied accents trickled from thy tongue J 
 
 G a
 
 84 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Tenderer, than love-despairing Damsel's sighs! 
 Softer, than Sylphid's airy symphonies ! 
 Here crown'd with crimson laurels, Julius 
 
 shone 
 Unpeopled realms, and made a world his 
 
 own; 
 
 Unhappy Julius ! doom'd, too late, to find 
 Man's hopes deceitful and Ambition blind. 
 
 Here too the guardian of the public weal, 
 
 i 
 
 Persuasive Tully, nurs'd his Patriot Zeal : 
 Soft as the sober Liris glides along- 
 Or as the torrent of Vulturnus, strong 
 He oratory's ductile powers display 'd, 
 And all her various arts by turns essay 'd.
 
 THE TOCSIN. 85 
 
 But nobler palms self-conquering Scipio won- 
 Whose worth Iberia's hostile records own ; 
 Iberia where the youthful Victor glow'd 
 Invincible and half-appear 'd a God ! 
 To swell the pomp, and crown his trophied fame, 
 Depress'd a purple-vested Princess came ; 
 With graceful ease her wanton tresses wav'd, 
 Her matchless beauty every heart enslav'd ; 
 Behind rher captive Lord mov'd slow along, 
 The fetter'd victim of the gazing throng : 
 O'er her fair form a silent sadness hung ; 
 Imperfect accents falter 'd on her tongue ; 
 Tho' much she wish'd grief left no power to tell 
 How dear the life of him she lov'd so well !
 
 86 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 The car-borne Conqueror mark'd her lovely 
 
 fear 
 
 Heard the deep sigh and saw the starting tear ; 
 His godlike heart a generous flame confess'd 
 And all the Roman glow'd within his breast! 
 Forbid it Heaven ! (he cried) No ! tho' I feel 
 Through every pore Love's subtle poison steal 
 Tho' fires (unfelt before) my breast inflame, 
 And Love, resistless Despot, conquers Fame ! 
 Heaven wills Love sacred chaste and uncon- 
 
 fin'd 
 
 No slave to Power; but chainless as the wind ! 
 Can Power direct the workings of the soul, 
 That own no law, and soar beyond controul ?
 
 THE TOCSIN. 87 
 
 Its dictates to pursue alone can give 
 
 Earth's choicest bliss and make it life to 
 
 live! 
 
 So did th' all-wise decree of Jove ordain, 
 When Love, his best of gifts, he gave to man ! 
 Then take from me, unhappy Prince ! (he 
 
 cry'd) 
 Take to thy arms once more thy beauteous 
 
 bride ; 
 
 Nor her alone ; resume thy former state ! 
 'Tis Scipio's gift ! be happy and be great! 
 As thus the glorious Chief his thoughts ex- 
 
 press'd, 
 And prov'd the virtue of a Roman breast;
 
 88 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 While the blesVd pair with grateful wonder 
 
 glow'd 
 Applausive murmurs echoed through the croud. 
 
 Not distant from Italia's confines, see 
 The fruitful plains of sea-girt Sicily ; 
 
 Where pitchy eructations Etna pours 
 
 In liquid torrents o'er her burning shores ; 
 Pervading many a league the troubled air 
 Unlook'd for night appals the Mariner ! 
 Catania's streets in smoking ruins lie ; 
 Volcanic fires arise from Stromboli ; 
 Old Ocean bellows from his inmost caves 
 And rears on high his battlement of waves.
 
 THE TOCSIN. 89 
 
 Say can I e'er forget thy favour'd seats 
 Parthenope ? or Baia's soft retreats ? 
 Benacus' lake ? Loretto's mystic shrine ? 
 By Monk, and Pilgrim, deem'd of old, divine ; 
 But now aghast the Bigot eye deplores, 
 Its desert altar, and its rifled stores ; 
 No crowds devotional arrest the gaze 
 No barefoot suppliant in its precincts prays. 
 Though now in Bladud's shades, my vacant time 
 The Muse employs, and bodies into rhyme ; 
 In youth's gay prime on Tiber's banks I stray 'd, 
 By Fanes superb, and Monuments decay 'd ; 
 Or where the stream of Arno glides along 
 Or Mincius sacred to the sons of song.
 
 90 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Enchanting scenes ! whichMemory paints anew 
 How alter'd now from what my pencil drew ! 
 Tho* Superstition with her leaden mace, 
 In blind subjection held an abject race ; 
 Thy peaceful plains were strangers to alarms 
 The trumpet's clangor, and the din of arms : 
 Not then, (the victims of tyrannic sway,) 
 The cruel spoiler tore thy sons away ; 
 Not then, thy works of art, triumphant bore 
 From the sack'd Vatican to Gallia's shore ; 
 No harness'd ruffians ravag'd then thy land, 
 Obedient to the Corsican's command 
 Th' insidious Corsican ! to whom 'tis given 
 To be th' avenging Minister of Heaven.
 
 THE TOCSIN. 91 
 
 How are thy glories, Rome Imperial, fled ! 
 
 The vengeful Vial hissing o'er thy head : 
 
 Thy sovereign Pontiff, bow'd with age and care ; 
 
 Thy Conclave vanish'd ; void St. Peter's chair : 
 
 Th' impending judgements for thy crimes, of 
 old, 
 
 Th' Apocalpytic Seer, in Patmos told. 
 
 The self-exalted King, that magnified 
 Himself above his God, with impious pride; 
 Th' inspir'd expounder of Jehovah's law, 
 (In visions rapt) the Hebrew captive saw 
 What time the Persian Monarch, to his hand 
 Intrusted Princely sway, and high command.
 
 92 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 While Britain's sons enjoy the dance and 
 
 song 
 
 The gory stream of carnage rolls along ; 
 Near, and more near, the murderous torrent 
 
 roars 
 
 And all but thunders on Britannia's shores ! 
 Bombs, cannon, mortars, hurtle in the air 
 And all the fell machinery of war : 
 The fiery Corsican its fury guides 
 And Death, and Desolation swell the tides. 
 The fate of Austria feeds the Victor's pride, 
 By arms subdued, and then by blood allied ; 
 Degraded Scion of a royal stem 
 Inserted in th' Usurper's diadem !
 
 THE TOCSIN. 93 
 
 Before his hordes the Prussian veterans fly ; 
 Prone in the dust Muscovia's ensigns lie ; 
 Iberia struggles, goaded by despair ; 
 And Lusitania trains her sons to war ; 
 While Britain speeds her well-tim'd legions 
 
 on, 
 
 Marshall'd and led by gallant Wellington. 
 But what, alas ! will deeds of arms avail ? 
 Or what, the Warrior sheath'd in triple mail ? 
 If Britain's sons, regardless of the hand 
 That crowns with conquest's wreath her martial 
 
 band, 
 
 The Lord omnipotent ; neglect to raise 
 The heart-felt song of Gratitude and Praise !-^-
 
 94 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 On Horeb's top the great Creator trod, 
 
 The Mountain's trembling base confess'd the 
 
 God: 
 
 'Twas there, th' omniscient self-existent cause, 
 To Moses* hand consign'd eternal laws, 
 His wandering charge from actions foul to bind, 
 And from unholy deeds deter mankind. 
 Some time, by precept and example, sway'd 
 Th' Almighty's mandates, Jacob's sons obey'd; 
 Not long the space; the mad contentious 
 
 crowd, 
 
 To molten Calves, and senseless Idols, bow'd ; 
 In giddy riot spent th' unhallow'd hour, 
 Unmindful of Jehovah's wrath, and Power ;
 
 THE TOCSIN. 95 
 
 Nor sleeps that Power ! when erring mortals 
 
 slight 
 
 His high behests and brave his arm of might: 
 This let Abiram's hapless exit tell ! 
 This guilty thousands that with Korah fell ! 
 May Britain warning take by Israel's crimes 
 And Israel's punishment in after times ! 
 Scatter 'd, unmix 'd, through every various state- 
 Food for the scorner and the Butt of hate : 
 At length a ray of hope their prospect chears 
 Through the long Vista of the " weeks of years." 
 
 My much-lov'd country may I live to see 
 Thy natives uncorrupt, and good as free !
 
 96 THE TOCSIN. 
 
 Thv sons no more licentious ; and the Fair 
 
 I 
 
 Make mental, not corporeal, aims, their care ! 
 Then, as along the stream of Time I glide, 
 While every year diminishes the tide ; 
 
 As unperceiv'd the moments fleet away, 
 Till, " dust to dust," concludes Life's fitful day ; 
 My grateful bosom, as my years decrease 
 Shall pass the closing scene in Joy and Peace ; 
 And meet, resign'd, th' appointed hour of rest; 
 In humble hope to rise among the blest 
 Through Him who died a guilty world to 
 
 save 
 And rose Victorious from the Vanquished Grave.
 
 JUB^EA MEBIVIVA. 
 
 COMPOSED, ANN. DOM. 1811. 
 
 WAKE harp of Sion! wake the trem- 
 bling strings ! 
 
 Thy realm's restor'd an alien poet sings ! 
 Arise! depress'd Jerusalem, arise! 
 Exalt thy drooping head and ope thy tearful 
 
 eyes! 
 
 For lo ! emerging through the mist of years- 
 Thy light is come ! thy Saviour King appears ! 
 His hand shall prune thy branches and entwine 
 In Glory's wreaths, his figurative Vine.
 
 98 JUDJEA REDIVIVA. 
 
 At length resume the long forgotten song ! 
 Such, as of old, thy sacred courts among 
 Swell'd the full chorus of the Levite choir 
 When Miriam hymn'd ; or .David struck the 
 
 lyre: 
 
 For lo ! the hours on Eagle pinions fly ! 
 The promis'd " Day spring," issues from on high ! 
 The latter days Heaven's dark decrees unfold 
 
 By prophet Bards, and, gifted Seers, foretold : 
 
 Wars and Convulsions shake the astonish 'd 
 World; 
 
 O'er guilty realms are vengeful thunders hurl'd; 
 
 The Man of sin's disclos'd ; the Book unseal'd ; 
 
 Th' Apocalypse to mortal eye reveal'd!
 
 JUD^A REDIVIVA. 99 
 
 Foredoom'd to waft the scattered Exiles o'er, 
 From distant regions, to their long-lost shore, 
 Soon shall the Nation maritime expand 
 Its canvass, freighted to the promised land 
 In solemn Hymns and Hallelujahs join, 
 
 Amid thv seats : recover'd Palestine ! 
 
 / 
 
 But who can sing thy renovated state ? 
 Or Armageddon's dreadful strife relate ? 
 Awake! (oh! long invok'd) Awake, at length 
 Arm of the Lord ! put forth thy wonted strength ! 
 Awake ! (thou scourge retributive of crimes !) 
 As in the days of old the ancient times 
 Art thou not it that Rahab cut, of yore ? 
 And stretch'd the Dragon weltering in his gore ? 
 
 H 2
 
 100 JUDJEA REDIVIVA. 
 
 Art thou not it that clave th' opposing deep? 
 That gather'd up its waters on a heap ? 
 That wall'd its waves and led the ransom'd o'er 
 From Egypt's confines to Arabia's shore ? ?*? 
 But hark ! what sorrow-smitten Mourner sings ? 
 What more than mortal finger sweeps the 
 
 strings ? 
 What woe-worn warbler breathes the plaintive 
 
 strain 
 
 School'd in distress and practis'd to complain? 
 Whose faded form appals my aching eye 
 In tatter'd Robes and humbled Majesty ?! ! ! 
 Tis Sion's plaint in sorrowing accents told ; 
 Bereft of Him the Shepherd of her fold :
 
 JUD^SA REDIVIVA. 101 
 
 For Ages doom'd a Vagabond to roam- 
 Without an Altar, Sacrifice, or Home ; 
 Throughout the Nations, helpless and forlorn, 
 Of Friends the pity, and of Foes the scorn : 
 Her consecrated Fanes in ruins lie ; 
 Such the sure word of sacred Prophecy ! 
 While thus afflicted desolate alone- 
 With lamentations deep, she makes her moan : 
 My great Redeemer- by the World ador'd ! 
 My guiltless Saviour and my martyr 'd Lord ! 
 Deign to look down, with pity in thine eye, 
 How here oppress'd degraded lost I lie ! 
 With trembling penitence I bow the knee, 
 And ope the fountain of my griefs to thee :
 
 102 JUREA REDIVIVA. 
 
 My great Preserver hear my fervent prayer ! 
 My sins are countless oh ! in mercy spare ! 
 To Israel's cries, and woful state attend ; 
 And save the seed of Abraham thy friend! 
 Of all my sins I mourn the endless sum 
 Greatest of all the Horrors of thy doom ! 
 'Twas this that rent the Temple's vail in twain, 
 And spread supernal darkness o'er the plain! 
 'Twas this that gave inverted Order birth ! 
 That cleft the Rocks that shook the seated 
 
 Earth- 
 That bade the grave its marble jaws unclose 
 Whence sainted bodies, long enshrouded, 
 
 rose!!!
 
 JUDAEA REDIVIVA. 103 
 
 But Who, from Edom journeying, meets my 
 
 eye? 
 
 From Bosrah who ? with garb of crimson die 
 The Paschal Lamb ! Omnipotent to save ! 
 Victor of Death! Triumphant o'er the 
 
 Grave ! 
 
 " Daughter of Sion Virgin Queen rejoice!" 
 Shine forth renew'd! raise high th' exulting 
 
 voice ! 
 
 Through all thy coasts be loud Hosannas sung ! 
 No more thy children mourn thy harps un- 
 
 strung, 
 
 Tuneless are left the lofty trees upon, 
 In th' Avenues of haughty Babylon.
 
 104 JUDJEA REDIVIVA. 
 
 No turbid clouds thy Atmosphere obscure : 
 Pure are thy fountains and thy streamlet* 
 
 pure 
 Fresh from the well of life ! which those who 
 
 taste 
 
 Shall thirst no more ! 
 With rapid flight Prophetic ages bring 
 Thy great Redeemer! thy anointed King ! 
 The pangs he suffer 'd for thy crimes, are o'er ! 
 The man of many sorrows mourns no more ! 
 Repeat the strain ! uplift th' expecting glance ! 
 On balmy wings th' appointed hours advance. 
 The lilies, whiter than new-drifted snows 
 Compose a chaplet, join'd with Sharon's rose.
 
 JUMA REDIVIVA. 105 
 
 See ! on green herbs the ravening Tygers feed : 
 And Lordly Lions crop the flowery mead : 
 Lo ! Salem's towering Tabernacle, shines 
 With ivory pillars, and resplendent shrines i 
 Its cedar beams its starry roof behold 
 Inlaid with Sapphires, and enwreath'd with 
 
 Gold! 
 
 Ambrosial incense on its altar burns, 
 And Levi's tribe the hallow'd censer turns. 
 Again, the trafficker to Ophir, sees 
 His ships returning with the fav'ring breeze ; 
 Their nearer progress follows with delight- 
 And hails the promise of their precious 
 
 freight.
 
 106 JUDJEA REDIVIVA. 
 
 Again, the strong-nerv'd Woodman tumbles 
 
 down 
 
 The verdant pride of lofty Lebanon. 
 In heavenly records I, exulting, trace 
 The alter'd fortunes of thy rescued race:; 
 In mental prospect, lost in wonder, see 
 Thy doom revers'd thy glorious destiny !
 
 OBE -TO JUSTICE. 
 
 IMPARTIAL Justice ! Power severe ! 
 Nought can thy stedfast purpose bend : 
 Ah vainly flows the kindred tear ! 
 
 Ah vainly wails th' imploring friend ! 
 E'en mightiest monarchs bow to thy decree; 
 Tho' cloth'd in ermin'd pomp,and purpleMajesty. 
 
 Manlius, impatient, dares the war, 
 
 Nor him the Consul's threats restrain ; 
 Geminius sinks beneath his spear, 
 
 Extended on the weltering plain : 
 Then, to his Father's tent in proud array 
 Unconscious of his fate, he sped his eager way.
 
 108 Ol)E TO JUSTICE. 
 
 Exulting loud I come (he cries) 
 
 With conquest crown'd, and deathless fame ! 
 Behold ! (and show'd the glitt'ring prize) 
 
 My glory and the Latian shame ! 
 These arms I reft from off the vanquish'd Foe 
 The meed of virtuous strife and manv a well 
 
 
 
 fought blow. 
 
 He ceas'd Ah no ! (with stem rebuke 
 The Chief replies, and brow severe, 
 While Justice arm'd his stedfast look, 
 And check'd the fond parental tear,) 
 No not the Father spares the forfeit Son ! 
 Offended Justice cries and what she wills, be 
 done.
 
 ODE TO JUSTICE. 109 
 
 The Pride and Pomp of war are vain : 
 
 Bound to the stake the Conqueror dies ! 
 Like Victim at the Altar slain- 
 To Justice stern a sacrifice : 
 With horror mute the gazing Romans stand ; 
 Yet while they mourn the Son, revere the 
 Sire's command.
 
 ADDRESS TO HOPE, 
 
 COME Hope ! celestial Cherub come ? 
 Whose influence can unclose the tomb, 
 
 And wing the Christian's flight : 
 Corroding Anguish sleepless Care 
 Astounded fly, and dumb Despair 
 
 And sicken at thy sight ! 
 
 Thy ray can pierce e'en Dungeons drear : 
 'Tis thine the sons of guilt to cheer, 
 
 In doleful durance pent : 
 At thy command distorted pain 
 
 Is mute ; and Envy's snaky train 
 And moody Discontent.
 
 ADDRESS TO HOPE. Ill 
 
 Thou glad'st the wretch whom cruel Fate, 
 Has thrown, far from his Parent state, 
 
 On some barbaric coast : 
 Thy mirror shows his native shore, 
 And friends, who his hard lot deplore. 
 
 And deem him ever lost ! 
 
 The maniac howl the phrenzied glare- 
 Horror's wild shriek, and frantic stare 
 
 'Tis thou alone cans't calm ! 
 The Widow's wail the Orphan's tear 
 Are stopp'd ; and wounds of many a year, 
 
 Cur'd by thy precious balm.
 
 112 ADDRESS TO HOPE. 
 
 Existence-hating Suicide- 
 His vest with crimson life-drops died* 
 
 His dagger drunk with gore ; 
 With clotted hair and eyeball glaz'd * 
 .Thy radiant form beholds amaz'd ! 
 
 And skims along the shore. 
 
 The Atheist shrinks appall'd from view ; 
 The Infidel and Deist crew, 
 
 Through realms Tartarean glide : 
 They spurn'd th* atonement of their Lord- 
 Rejected his eternal word 
 
 His red right arm defied ! ! !
 
 ADDRESS TO HOPE. 113 
 
 Indulgent Power thy aid impart ! 
 With chasten'd raptures fill my heart 
 
 Thy soothing Heralds send ! 
 Teach me the ways of Love and Peace, 
 Bid sublunary sorrows cease, 
 
 And Earth's delusions end ! 
 
 And on the confines of the Grave 
 When Heaven resumes the life it gave, 
 
 And claims my forfeit breath ; 
 Be Faith thy Seraph Sister nigh ! 
 With thee to waft me to the sky- 
 
 And charm the shaft of Death !
 
 Dece Juventutis Fabulosce. 
 
 ROSE lip d Hebe, blooming Maid, 
 Living still in lonely shade, 
 Ever florid, fair, and young, 
 Deign t' accept an artless song ! 
 Thou, blythe Goddess, joy'st to grow 
 On the craggy mountains brow, 
 Not amid the Sons of state, 
 Slender, nice, and delicate. 
 When the early hunter Day 
 Chases swift the Night away, 
 The hardy Rustic lifts his head, 
 Rising from his lowly bed ;
 
 JUVENTUTIS FABULOS&. 115 
 
 Whistling through the verdant vale, 
 He scents the odour-breathing gale. 
 When the nipping frosts appear, 
 And open lies the gelid year ; 
 
 His strong-nerv'd frame defies disease* 
 
 Him the cutting breezes please. 
 Soon his daily work he sees; 
 Whether sturdy Oaken trees 
 Which in full perfection stand, 
 The Woodman's weighty stroke demand : 
 Or the Ploughman, free from care, 
 Cuts the glebe with shining share ; 
 There, amid the fresh-turn'd plain- 
 Health, (with all her ruddy train), 
 
 I 2
 
 116 DE& JUVENTUTIS FABULOS&. 
 
 Rising from the smoking soil, 
 
 Repays his salutary toil. 
 
 He, by the meridian sun, 
 
 Kens the wish'd approach of noon : 
 
 Then his well-stor'd wallet takes, 
 
 From the near adjoining brakes 
 
 And leathern bottle, which was laid 
 
 Underneath the hazel shade, 
 
 Fill'd with drink in foaming pride ; 
 
 These he places by his side. 
 
 Sitting on the furrow'd ground, 
 
 His faithful cur looks quick around. 
 
 When the shades of Night, away 
 
 Slowly beat retreating day ;
 
 VEJE JUVENTUTIS FABULOSJE. 117 
 
 When the Painter's eye admires, 
 
 Landscapes dim, and dusky spires ; 
 
 Or his faithful pencil takes, 
 
 Forest glades, and glimmering lakes : 
 
 The Rustic to his cot returns 
 
 O'er the banks, and o'er the bourns; 
 
 Where, near some obscure bye road, 
 
 Stands his little neat abode, 
 
 Built alone of turf and clay, 
 
 And thatch'd against a rainy day : 
 
 Two rooms it boasts, which free from harm, 
 
 Keep his wife and children warm : 
 
 Sitting round the chearful fire, 
 
 His spouse and babes expect their sire :
 
 118 DKE JUVENTUTIS FABULOS&. 
 
 After supper -just at nine- 
 They on pallet hard recline; 
 Rising healthy, fresh, and gay, 
 To work on each succeeding day.
 
 SONG OF TRIUMPH 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 CABWAJLLO, 
 
 SHOUT Northumbria rescu'd land ! 
 Rend the air with festive cries ! 
 
 Mark ! where, on the gory strand- 
 Reft of life, Cadwallo lies ! 
 
 By the ruthless Tyrant's ire, 
 
 Ravag'd see your fertile shore 
 
 Sheets of smoke, and wasteful fire, 
 Rise- where cities rose before.
 
 120 SONG OF TRIUMPH ON 
 
 Hatfield ! on thy weltering plain, 
 Blood-stain'd wreaths the Conqueror won; 
 
 There was gallant Edwin slain 
 Offrid there his warlike son. 
 
 Anfrid falls (Bernicia's King) 
 Fell'd by stout Cadwallo's might ; 
 
 Osric's loss shall Deira sing, 
 Rashly vent'rous in the fight. 
 
 Oswald saves his native land ; 
 
 Oswald generous undismay'd 
 Great revenge impell'd his hand, 
 
 Love fraternal drew the blade.
 
 THE DEATH OF CADWALLO. 121 
 
 Say celestial Powers that know 
 
 Secrets of the human heart 
 Say who bent the mortal bow ? 
 
 Who impell'd the pinion 'd dart ? 
 
 Sure some white-rob'd son of light 
 
 Hid from sublunary eye 
 Plunging 'mid the raging fight, 
 
 Bade the deathful weapon fly ! 
 
 Vengeance lowering in the air 
 Now fulfills her purpose dread ; 
 
 Fear ! relentless Tyrants, fear ! 
 Lo ! the stern Cadwallo's dead !
 
 122 SONG OF TRIUMPH ON 
 
 Ne'er shall Cambria's rude domain, 
 Her victorious Prince receive ; 
 
 Ne'er the wanton gales again, 
 See his crimson banners wave. 
 
 Ne'er shall high Plinlimmon's brow, 
 View Northumbrian standards borne, 
 
 Down the grassy steep below 
 Nor her martial sons forlorn. 
 
 Happy Kingdom ! now no more, 
 Shrieks resound and dying groans ; 
 
 Nor appears thy purple shore, 
 Whiten'd o'er with human bones.
 
 THE DEATH OF CADWALLO. 123 
 
 Now, no more the ravening crows, 
 Peck the blooming warriors dead ; 
 
 Nor the chattering Magpie's maws, 
 
 
 Are with reeking entrails fed. 
 
 See triumphant Oswald comes, 
 
 O'er the mountain through the plain ! - 
 Mark his helm his raven plumes ! 
 
 Marching see the trophied train ! 
 
 Slavery bows her drooping head ; 
 
 Liberty resumes her sway ; 
 Now the darkling clouds are fled ! 
 
 Now return the beams of day !
 
 EDWARD THE MARTYR 
 
 TO 
 
 FROM sainted Edward's silent tomb, 
 Tremendous shrieks and groans arise ; 
 
 Nearer the hollow accents come 
 Attend ! the Martyr'd Monarch cries, 
 
 Elfrida more than Tygress fell 
 
 That haunts the mountain's shaggy steeps ; 
 Not long delays thy parting knell ! 
 
 Not long the rod of Vengeance sleeps !
 
 EDWARD TO ELFRIDA. 125 
 
 Thee tho' fallacious hopes deceive, 
 With specious form and visage fair ; 
 
 Soon shall those hopes thy bosom leave ; 
 Seek then thy refuge in Despair ! 
 
 Death, (curs'd Elfrida) Death shall come, 
 
 Regardless of thy regal state ; 
 Nought can avert thy dismal doom ! 
 
 Nought change the fix'd decrees of Fate ! 
 
 While here thou liv'st, unhappy Dame ! 
 
 Each day shall added torment bring ; 
 Disease shall rack thy palsied frame, 
 
 And keen remorse thy bosom sting!
 
 126 EDWARD TO ELFRIDA. 
 
 A scorpion Conscience shall thee goad- 
 No friend to bring the wish'd relief; 
 
 To ease awhile the toilsome load, 
 Or still th' incessant tide of grief! 
 
 Thy startled soul, appall'd, shall view, 
 
 The horrors of Heirs dreary reign; 
 The sulph'rous flames, the tortur'd crew, 
 That howl in unconsuming pain. 
 
 Nor long thy Offspring bears the sway, 
 (Like thee by blood and slaughter known) 
 
 An injur'd Chieftain plows the sea, 
 And hurls the Tyrant from his throne.
 
 EDWARD TO ELFRIDA. 127 
 
 Unblest Elfrida ! day and night, 
 Infernal cries shall stunn thine ear; 
 
 Thy blood shall chill with wild affright- 
 Internal anguish ceaseless fear. 
 
 See Justice high her standard rear ! 
 
 The Ministers of Vengeance cry- 
 Survive Elfrida wretched here! 
 Then comfortless unpitied - die !
 
 TO A LADY 
 ON HER BIRTH DAY. 
 
 THE new-blown year flings fragrance o'er the 
 
 glade ; 
 
 Borne on its wings returns the natal hour 
 Of mild Maria, sweetly pensive Maid ! 
 The fairest flow 'ret of the Vernal bower. 
 
 That hour indeed returns (she faintly cries) 
 Returning still, while still unblest I mourn ; 
 
 If it but fails to dry these streaming eyes, 
 Why should I hail ? why covet its return?
 
 TO A LADY. 129 
 
 Would I could backward roll the tide of 
 
 time, 
 
 To those gay hours Maria knew before, 
 When bland-eye'd Pleasure smooth'd her 
 
 blooming prime, 
 
 Then stop its lapse, and bid her mourn no 
 more! 
 
 Yet why should mortals vainly court relief? 
 
 Joys unalloy'd our wishes ill deserve ; 
 Rapture can ne'er impart the bliss of grief, 
 
 The trembling thrillings of the fine-spuri 
 nerve !
 
 TO A LADY. 
 
 Affliction softens, while it wrings, the heart, 
 Betters the soul, and bursts the bonds of sense ; 
 
 Say what can Earth's fantastic scenes impart, 
 Like the flush 'd glow of warm benevolence? 
 
 Would'st thou, unthinking, wish to laugh away 
 That time to thee for nobler purpose given ? 
 
 Pass lightly tripping o'er life's easy way ? 
 Nor climb the flinty steep that leads toHeaven? 
 
 For me if haply my condoling scroll, 
 
 Can from thy pale cheek wipe one tear away ; 
 
 Still the strong sorrows of thy saddening soul 
 And gild with comfort's beam thy little day,
 
 TO A LADY. 131 
 
 I ask no more; each fond complaint shall 
 
 cease ; 
 
 The sweet reflection all my woes shall drown ; 
 Pleas'd to recline my drooping head in peace, 
 And bless the power that bows its honours 
 down.
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 JEJLEGY. 
 
 EARTH with incumbent shade lies mantled 
 o'er; 
 
 Mute the shrill herald of the new-born day ; 
 O'er the lone heath, and widely desert Moor, 
 
 Cynthia, pale glimmering, sheds her feeble ray. 
 
 Morpheus (apt emblem of the fate-wing'd God,) 
 With peaceful slumbers seals the guiltless 
 breast ; 
 
 O'er half a world extends his leaden rod 
 And lulls creation's numerous sons to rest.
 
 NIGHT. 133 
 
 Tho' through the fields of air no songsters 
 :. :fly, ; i.n ^^\M*i$$&i ' 
 Nor crouded marts, with busy hums re- 
 sound ; 
 
 The Bat, on leathern pinion, rustles by, 
 And startles Silence in her cave profound. 
 
 Gloom-shrouded Nurse of dark and desperate 
 
 deeds, 
 With day-shunn'd crimes, and screaming 
 
 murders fed ; 
 
 In thee the canker-worm of Treason breeds 
 Assassination rears its hideous head !
 
 134 NIGHT. 
 
 Fantastic fancies haunt the simple soul, 
 And fill with boding fears the rustic's rest; 
 
 The Raven's croak the Mastiff's midnight 
 
 howl 
 Can raise up omens in the unletter'd breast. 
 
 From the turf d mansions of the silent dead, 
 Spectres are feign'd to lead their grisly train ; 
 
 And Fairies, tripping light with frisky tread, 
 In mimic dance to press the velvet plain. 
 
 Calm Contemplation hooded like a sage, 
 With weighty brow, and garb of russet hue, 
 
 Moves slowly on ; him serious thoughts engage, 
 Regardless of the dank nocturnal dew.
 
 NIGHT. 135 
 
 The cag'd Astronomer, with lengthen'd eye, 
 On noblest aims employs his towering soul; 
 
 Explores the secrets of th' expanse on high ; 
 And shows how season's bright successions roll. 
 
 Avoid, with cautious step, the covert road, 
 
 Where no faint ray points out th' entangled path; 
 There oft the Ruffian fixes his abode, 
 
 And stilly meditates the work of death! 
 
 The Beetle slow the twilight gloom divides ; 
 The Owl's loud hootings prompt the rustic 
 dream ; 
 
 But those, whom Reason and Religion guides, 
 Fear not the drowsy hum the boding scream.
 
 Lines composed at KESWICK in 1784. 
 
 FOR Caledonia fam'd of old, 
 For kirtled Chiefs and Barons bold ; 
 I leave wild Keswick's witching vale, 
 And the grey Fells of Borrowdale. 
 
 Thy tumbling torrent, loud Lowdore, 
 Shall stunn my wondering ear no more ; 
 No more, Helvellyn's cloud-capt height- 
 Or giant Skiddaw meet my sight. 
 
 No more, at close of setting day, 
 On Derwentwater's brink I stray : 
 Adieu wild Keswick's witching vale! 
 Adieu ! romantic Borrowdale !
 
 LINES written at FERRARA immediately 
 after having visited the Tomb of ARIOSTO, 
 in the Church of the BENEDICTINES. 
 Nov. 13, 1786. 
 
 YE willows green, that wide extend 
 O'er moist Ferrara's marshy shore, 
 
 Your heads in pitying languor bend, 
 
 And mourn you're fav'rite bard no more ! 
 
 Ye reeds that skirt his hallo w'd grave, 
 Where wildly wanders down the vale 
 
 His Parent stream ; still wilder wave, 
 And sigh along the passing gale !
 
 138 LINES WRITTEN AT FERRARA. 
 
 For here, your poet wildly great- 
 His magic numbers sweetly sung ; 
 
 And here , inexorable Fate ! 
 
 For ever stopp'd his tuneful tongue ! 
 
 Yet still Orlando shall survive, 
 While cold, Orlando's Poet, lies ; 
 
 Though Fate forbids the Bard to live 
 His wreath of laurel never dies.
 
 VERSES ON LIFE; 
 
 COMPOSED AT BOLOGNA. 
 
 AH say what is that idle toy, 
 To man the cause of strife ; 
 
 What all would keep, yet few enjoy, 
 That mystic riddle Life ? 
 
 'Tis o'er a rough uneven soil 
 To pace the same dull round, 
 
 Seeking, with unavailing toil, 
 What never can be found.
 
 140 VERSES ON LIFE. 
 
 One day to Man allows the power 
 
 The race of Life to run : 
 Not distant is the final hour; 
 
 That little race is done ! 
 
 Soon must the fatal moment come, 
 
 That ends his brief career ; 
 And soon the " blossoms of the tomb," 
 
 Proclaim that moment near. 
 
 Small is the list of pleasures here, 
 
 That Mortals can possess ; 
 And every care-increasing year, 
 
 Still makes that " little, to."
 
 VERSES ON LIFE. 141 
 
 Say what is Life ? a dream of Joy, 
 For threescore years no more ! 
 
 And clay cold oft the dreamers lie 
 And then the dream is o'er ! 
 
 'Tis said that friendship o'er the scene, 
 
 Can shed a cheering ray ; 
 Renew our faded hopes with green ; 
 
 And gild our little day. 
 
 Yet fickle Fortune's various turns 
 
 Oft friendship's hopes destroy ; 
 Or, if undimm'd her taper burns 
 
 Death ends the transient joy.
 
 142 VERSES ON LIFE. 
 
 Cans't thou, Louisa, peerless Maid ! 
 
 s 
 
 The thorns of Life remove? 
 Be then thy various charms display *d 
 And try the force of Love ! 
 
 Yet Love oft yields to Interest's power, 
 Or Parents' harsh commands : 
 
 Nor are unmingled joys in store, 
 For plighted hearts and hands. 
 
 Since then such numerous ills we find 
 To blast our prospects here ; 
 
 Let higher scenes engage our mind, 
 Where brightest hopes appear !
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Written at Naples on Christmas Day 1786. 
 
 'TIS now the time, 'mid Albion's blissful plains, 
 That Christmas smiles with ivy chaplets 
 
 crown'd, 
 
 That circling friends the social hearth sur- 
 round, 
 
 And Mirth, unsour'd by thought, despotic reigns. 
 Well I remember when near Trenta's stream 
 My vernal days devoid of care did move, 
 While rosy health bedeck'd with chearing beam, 
 Th' expanding buds of friendship and of 
 love ;
 
 144 SONNET. 
 
 But now no more she gilds the listless hours, 
 Tho' 'mid Italia's fertile regions plac'd ; 
 Italia, now a lone uncultur'd waste, 
 
 Nor flowery plains adorn, nor myrtle bowers. 
 
 No more the Bard pours forth the magic song; 
 
 No more the laurell'd Chief triumphant moves 
 along.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Composed at Rome in the Spring of 1787. 
 
 AH ! little knows the Man of sordid mind, 
 
 The Pleasures pure from Learning's source 
 that flow - 
 
 The Joys that Wit and Wisdom can bestow ; 
 Or heaven-born Genius towering unconfin'd! 
 Unhappy Poesy ! condemned to prove, 
 
 The pangs of hunger, and the taunts of 
 
 pride : 
 Could Chatterton unfeeling grandeur move? 
 
 And Pity slept when gentle Otway died ! 
 
 L
 
 146 SONNET. 
 
 Famine wan, meagre, Fiend ! exert thy sway 
 O'er the rich owners of the splendid dome 
 A pamper'd race, and ready for the tomb ! 
 
 From Fancy's purer offspring turn away ! 
 
 Ah cease the sons of Genius to devour ! 
 
 On more ignoble heads thy sateless vengeance 
 pour !
 
 tunes Written at Jlfracomfc, 
 IN JULY 1809. 
 
 WHERE Devonia's fractur'd features, 
 Do their wildest cast assume; 
 
 Beetling o'er the waste of waters, 
 Frown the cliffs of Ilfracomb. 
 
 E'er was rais'd the blazing Beacon, 
 Oft the seaman met his doom; 
 
 Oft was wreck'd the gallant vessel 
 On the reef of Ilfracomb. 
 
 Now the warning light ascending, 
 
 Does this dangerous coast illume, 
 Each advent'rous Tar befriending, 
 
 Near the rocks of Ilfracomb. 
 L 2
 
 148 ILFRACOMB. 
 
 Tier on tier stupendous rising, 
 Skirted by the cavern'd gloom ; 
 
 Each fantastic form comprising, 
 Tower the heights of Ilfracomb. 
 
 Shall the Artist's mimic pencil, 
 To attempt such scenes presume ? 
 
 Can the Bard's enraptur'd measures 
 Paint thy wonders, Ilfracomb ? 
 
 Effort vain and fruitless labour, 
 Of the children of the tomb ! 
 
 Artists of superior nature 
 
 Should depict thee Ilfracomb.
 
 LINES WRITTEN AT TEIGNMOUTH, 
 
 IN THE AUTUMN OF 1809. 
 
 
 WILD whistles the whirlwind ; the tempest 
 
 sonorous, 
 
 With foliage Autumnal besprinkles the air; 
 Thy copses, O Teignmouth, no more are me- 
 lodious, 
 
 And the precincts of Dawlish are leafless and 
 bare. 
 
 But Spring shall reverdure the mead and the 
 forest ; 
 
 The Birds shall again sweetly sing on the spray, 
 When Flora enamels the vallies of Devon, 
 
 And Nature looks bly the in the mantle of May.
 
 150 TEIGNMOUTH. 
 
 On the river's green margin how pleasing to 
 
 wander, 
 When the hush'd wave of Ocean sleeps 
 
 softly serene ! 
 
 Ilissus, and Tiber, and Po, ajid Scamander, 
 Ah! what are your banks to the banks of the 
 Teign !
 
 Lines written on the Spot described, 
 in May 1810. 
 
 THO' courtly Dorset sung, of yore, 
 The beauties of the Tuscan shore ; 
 Where Arno pours her silver tide, 
 And Florence rises by her side ; ' 
 Tho' much Italia's scenes I prize 
 Her softer clime, and clearer skies ; 
 Yet ne'er shall I my lot bewail 
 Reclin'd at ease in Luscombe Vale. 
 
 For lo ! before my wandering eyes 
 The slanting roofs of Dawlish rise ;
 
 152 LUSCOMBE VALE. 
 
 The streamlet hastening to the shore- 
 The castellated seat of Hoare 
 Th' unruffled wave the meadows green- 
 And half-hid Church compose the scene : 
 While I the pleasing prospect hail 
 Reclin'd at ease in Luscombe Vale.
 
 Composed on the Beach at Rottingdean, 
 October 5, 1811. 
 
 YOU -who love an open sea 
 Open downs; and hate a tree, 
 Cultur'd fields, and alleys green ; 
 Come and live at Rottingdean ! 
 
 You whom sylvan scenes delight 
 You who treeless prospects slight- 
 Fly oh fly, th' unshelter'd scene ! 
 Come not near to Rottingdean ! 
 
 You who vour Creator trace 
 
 V 
 
 In every scene, in every place, 
 
 With conscience clear, and breast serene 
 
 You may find charms in Rottingdean !
 
 LINES WRITTEN AT WEYMOUTH, 
 In November 1811. 
 
 LET the pert perfum'd Popinjay, 
 To tonish Brighton tune the lay, 
 Or Worthing's tiny charms display ; 
 While I, secure in Weymouth's bay, 
 (Shelter'd from angry tempests,) stay, 
 Till Spring extends the lengthen'd day : 
 Then visit Bladud's precincts gay ; 
 From thence to Cambria speed my way, 
 Her loud cascades, her mountains grey, 
 And deep romantic glens, survey : 
 Through her sequester'd vallies stray, 
 Frisk'd o'er by many an Elf, and Fay, 
 Where lambkins bleat, and kidlings play.
 
 Lines composed at the HAFOD ARMS, 
 
 PONT Y MYNACH, July 4, 1812. 
 
 WILD Enthusiasts, scenes terrific 
 With undaunted step explore ; 
 
 And, absorb'd in trance petrific 
 Banquet on the torrents roar ! 
 
 Sons of Genius court seclusion ; 
 Far from frolic, far from noise ; 
 
 Scenes of tumult and confusion, 
 Suit the Worldling's empty joys ! 
 
 Joys, the source of many a sorrow, 
 That delude, with meteor-ray ; 
 
 Too regardless of to-morrow ! 
 Too delighted with to-day !
 
 Lines to the Memory of an interesting Invalid, who 
 was attended by her Sister through various Parts 
 of England in Search of Health; and t finally, 
 conveyed by Sea from TORQUAY to LONDON in the 
 Spring of 1813. 
 
 LONG, (in hope of health amending) 
 
 Julia, with maternal care, 
 Sought, (her Sister's steps attending) 
 
 Warmer suns, and purer air. 
 
 Vain the softer clime of Devon ! 
 
 Vain the breezes of Torquay ! 
 Destin'd to her native Heaven 
 
 Gentle Emma's call'd away !
 
 EMMA AND JULIA. 157 
 
 Vainly, o'er the cradling billow, 
 
 Julia wafts the drooping Maid ; 
 Sooth's her mind, and smooth's her pillow ; - 
 
 Nought avails the Sister's aid ! 
 
 But, in climes where sickness, never 
 Can its victims pale annoy ; 
 
 Julia's deeds shall live for ever- 
 Noted in the realms of Joy.
 
 A Muse of fire the Times demand, 
 Unhop'd for blessings crown the land, 
 Europe presents an alter'd scene 
 Then hail the glorious year fourteen ! 
 For now th' Oppressor's race is run 
 The Work of Desolation's done ! 
 To George the Regent tune the lay ! 
 To Liverpool! and Castlereagh! 
 Whose conduct firm, and counsels sage, 
 Redeem'd from thrall a prostrate age. 
 New battles fought new Victories won 
 Proclaim the march of Wellington !
 
 THE YEAR 1814. 159 
 
 Cotemporary heroes yield 
 
 
 
 To him the Nelson of the field ! 
 Thy toils are o'er thou Son of Fame ! 
 Titles and Trophies grace thy name. 
 " And when, at length, the hungry worm 
 Shall banquet on thy Victor-form ! 
 When Death (whose hand alone can tear 
 Victrix corona from thy hair) 
 Shall (ever faithful to his mark) 
 Strike, from thy breast, the vital spark ! 
 Britain (unconquer'd Chief!) to thee 
 The chissel'd Statue shall decree; 
 Companion of distinguish'd Men 
 Plac'd in the sacred Dome of Wren.
 
 160 THE YEAR 1814. 
 
 Iberia down the stream of Time 
 Shall buoyant waft thy deeds sublime ! 
 lerne's Bards the strain prolong! 
 And distant Ages catch the song ! !" 
 Th' intrepid children of the North, 
 Blucher and Platoff issue forth : 
 Their feats, with trumpet-tongue, proclaim 
 The base Usurper's flight, and shame, 
 In Elba's islet doom'd to live, 
 A vile degraded fugitive ! 
 To Alexander peans raise ! 
 (Almost beyond the reach of praise) 
 Parent and Guardian of his state ; 
 More than the Macedonian, great !
 
 THE YEAR 1814. 161 
 
 Austria the sacred compact joins ! 
 Again, the star of Prussia shines ! 
 Again (beneath serener skies) 
 See Bourbon's blazon'd lilies rise ! 
 Louis, the much-desird, appears 
 To dry his suffering people's tears ; 
 The Ploughshare, to the Sword, succeeds, 
 And peaceful arts to ruthless deeds. 
 Their salutary conquests, o'er 
 The Conquerors land on Britain's shore : 
 To her their heart-felt tribute pay 
 Who first to Freedom led the way : 
 She hails her good and great Allies- 
 While shouts of Triumph rend the skies ! 
 
 M
 
 162 THE YEAR 1814. 
 
 The blessing bearer most she greets, 
 
 And leads to Alfred's classic seats, 
 
 Where Isis proudly rolls along 
 
 The Nurse of Science, and of Song : 
 
 Europe's Deliverers, there receive, 
 
 Such honours as the Learn'd can give ; 
 
 Graduates of Oxford, Monarchs see 
 
 Enroll'd in lists of L. L. D. 
 
 And long the sister streams shall glide 
 
 With ampler swell in conscious pride : 
 
 And Gownsmen long, at College feasts 
 
 Shall celebrate their scepter 'd guests ; 
 
 To Alexander tune the lyre ! 
 
 To George the Son! and George the Sire !
 
 IMITATIONS. 
 
 IN LODE DELIA L1BERTA PASTORALE. GUARINI. 
 
 YE forests thick with branching boughs, 
 Ye sacred seats of still repose, 
 Wild horrors, solitary shades, 
 Which no rude wandering step invades, 
 How oft, in fancy rapt, I rove, 
 To tread the pensive haunts I love ! 
 Had chequer'd fortune's fickle Queen 
 Given, to my wish, the Sylvan scene ; 
 Had she my peaceful steps allow'd 
 To fly the pleasures of the crowd ; 
 Not all the charms Elizium yields 
 Should tempt me from my native fields, 
 
 M 2
 
 164 IMITATIONS. 
 
 Where, musing, every hour I'd range, 
 Nor change the scene, nor wish to change. 
 For oft the goods that mortals prize, 
 Are evils veil'd in deep disguise ; 
 The riches titled honour shares, 
 Oft for another's freedom snares. 
 Ah! what avails it to be young? 
 From wealthy Predecessors sprung? 
 Ah ! what avails it to be fair? 
 Or Fortune's brightest gems to wear ? 
 All Heaven or Earth have power to give, 
 Or favour'd Mortal can receive ; 
 Or pastures green, or large domains ; 
 Rich lands, and harvest-gilded plains,
 
 IMITATIONS. 165 
 
 By countless flocks and herds possessed 
 If Discontent pervades the breast ? 
 More happy far the Shepherdess, 
 In clean and neatly-mended dress ; 
 To her is Nature's bounty shown, 
 Bless'd in her gifts, and hers alone : 
 For tho' possessing little store, 
 Her heart perceives not she is poor : 
 
 She feels not (born of low estate) 
 The ills attendant on the great ; 
 
 And tho' her garb is scant and mean- 
 Her bosom's guileless and serene ; 
 Nor e'er can Avarice molest, 
 Or carking Care disturb her rest.
 
 166 IMITATIONS. 
 
 She Nature's choicest boons enjoys 
 A wholesome treat the Cow supplies; 
 And with the sweets the Bee bestows, 
 Her native sweetness, sweeter grows. 
 The fountain cool her thirst relieves, 
 And baths, for health and pleasure, gives ; 
 If in her breast Contentment reign 
 What more can wealther maids obtain? 
 
 A 
 
 O'er her in vain the Welkin lowers, 
 In vain descend the humid showers ; 
 Perchance the rattling storm she'll hear- 
 But Poverty knows little fear ! 
 One pain alone her breast can move, 
 The soft, the pleasing, pain of Love ;
 
 IMITATIONS. 167 
 
 The herbs her fleecy charge sustain ; 
 Her gentle looks support her swain : 
 No fate decreed by stars, she knows, 
 Or Man, but such as Love allows ; 
 And underneath her fav'rite shade, 
 More beauteous seems the beauteous Maid. 
 If for her favour'd swain she burns, 
 Her swain the gentle fire returns ; 
 If soft desires his breast inflame, 
 Her faithful bosom feels the same. 
 Happiest of lives! on thee no power, 
 Has Fate, before the final hour: 
 
 Each present blessing I'd resign, 
 
 
 
 If that this humble lot were mine. 
 
 IL PASTOR FIDO, ATTQ II. SCENA V.
 
 LA PARTENZA; 
 
 DEL S/G*. METASTASSIO. 
 
 " ECCO QUEL FIERO 1ST ANTE 
 NICE, MIA NICE, ADDIO 1" &C. 
 
 AT length the parting moment's near, 
 
 Nice, my lovely Maid, adieu ! 
 How tedious will my days appear, 
 
 When far from happiness, and you ! 
 Slowly the lagging hours will move, 
 
 Those hours no longer pass'd with thee; 
 And who can tell if she I love 
 
 Will lend the mutual thought to me ? 
 
 Where'er my gentle Nice roves, 
 
 Oft may the soft idea rise, 
 How tenderly her shepherd loves, 
 
 How truly for his charmer sighs ;
 
 IMITATIONS. 169 
 
 And may she, as alone she strays, 
 
 His form in Fancy's mirror see ; 
 But, who can tell if she I praise 
 
 Will lend the mutual thought to me ? 
 
 Her swain, through many a distant land 
 
 Wandering, immers'd in deep distress, 
 Will of each tree, each rock, demand 
 
 " Say where's my beauteous Shepherdess ?" 
 And every hour from eve till morn, 
 
 My constant mind will fix on thee ; 
 Yet will the Maid for whom I burn, 
 
 Bestow the mutual thought on me?
 
 170 IMITATIONS. 
 
 Each well known bank where once we stray 'd, 
 
 Oft will my anxious thoughts review; 
 For happy there the moments fled 
 
 For Nice ! there they pass'd with you : 
 A thousand pangs my breast will tear, 
 
 When faithful Memory points to thee ; 
 But who can say my gentle Fair, 
 
 Will lend the mutual thought to me ? 
 
 
 Oft will Idea paint the stream, 
 
 Where once I died of cold disdain ; 
 Where since, (a pledge of fond esteem,) 
 
 Your hand you kindly gave your swain :
 
 IMITATIONS. 171 
 
 Here, fears my doubting breast would move 
 There, hope would more propitious be ; 
 
 But who can tell if she I love, 
 
 Will lend the mutual thought to me? 
 
 ;hV>f -imhd 'k> bn 
 Ah ! think that Cupid's pleasing dart 
 
 Phileno's breast must ever prove ! 
 Consider that thy Shepherd's heart, 
 
 Tho' hope should cease, is doom'd to love ! 
 Ah ! think what pangs his bosom rend, 
 
 Condemn'd to part with all in thee forrr 
 And who can say my gentle friend, 
 
 Will lend the mutual thought to me ?
 
 PER PERSUADERE AD AMARE. 
 
 AMINTA DI TASSO. ATTO 1. SCENA I. 
 
 HAD you the bliss, Myrtillo, prov'd, 
 Of loving, and of being lov'd ; 
 Had you the nameless rapture known, 
 When kindred souls unite in one ; 
 You'd think, (so sweet the hours would move) 
 All moments lost, but those of love : 
 
 Ah me ! on meaner themes intent 
 How many useless years I've spent ? 
 How many useless days are flown, 
 That pass'd unsocial and alone !
 
 IMITATIONS. 173 
 
 Relinquish then, deluded swain, 
 Pursuits so trivial and so vain ; 
 Participated joys, bestow 
 More bliss than Solitude can know : 
 
 To higher, sweeter, pleasures move- 
 And own no bliss like that of love.
 
 SONNET. 
 
 PETRARCH. 
 
 AH ! when shall I once more review 
 Those tresses which my heart enchain ? 
 
 Behold those beauteous smiles anew ? 
 Or hear those dulcet sounds again. 
 
 
 
 Oh Form too killing fair ! from thee 
 For ever must my sorrows flow ? 
 
 Shall I no glimpse of Pleasure see 
 Or Pleasure deeply ting'd with woe ?
 
 IMITATIONS. 175 
 
 If in those mild, those lovely eyes, 
 That fascinate my soften'd breast, 
 
 Some gathering beams of kindness rise, 
 To give my aching bosom rest ; 
 
 Fortune my dire insatiate foe 
 The vessel or the steed prepares ; 
 
 Forbids my budding joys to blow- 
 And far their beauteous object bears.
 
 GUARINI. 
 
 HAPPY, the Man who views your eyes ! 
 Happier, for whom Belinda sighs ! 
 Happiest, whose sighs have power to move 
 Responsive sighs, and mutual love ! 
 And much I hope, the friendly star, 
 That form'd you lovely, sweet, and fair 
 Form'd you with charms and sense combined, 
 To please the eye, and please the mind. 
 Another wish my heart would move 
 Twould be to share Belinda's love.
 
 SOLILOQUY OF AMARYLLIS, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 PASTOM FIDO. 
 
 O MTRTILLO, MYRTILLO, ANIMA MIA? 
 
 COULD my Myrtillo but behold 
 That heart, which now he deems so cold, 
 How soon would Amaryllis prove, 
 Kind pity, and returning love ! 
 
 Ah ! what avails it, to have known 
 The bliss of Love, and Love alone ! 
 Ah ! what avails it, that thy swain 
 Was blithest 'mid the rural train ! 
 
 N
 
 178 IMITATIONS. 
 
 Why cruel Fate command to part, 
 If powerful Love entwines the heart ? 
 And why, perfidious Love ! entwine 
 Those hearts which Fate forbids to join ? 
 
 To the free Tenants of the fields 
 No such condition Nature yields ; 
 No harsh restraint like us they prove, 
 And own no law but that of Love. 
 
 Inhuman Law ! th* attempt of Man, 
 To baffle Nature's wiser plan ; 
 Why such a cruel Mandate breathe? 
 Why punish faithful Love by death ?
 
 IMITATIONS. 179 
 
 For if th' offence so sweet appear, 
 Concentring all that Life holds dear ; 
 Why hard Necessity controul, 
 The genuine dictates of the soul ? 
 
 Nature imperfect sure must be, 
 Resisting Law's august decree ; 
 Or human Justice too severe, 
 To curb wise Nature's free career. 
 
 Yet, why for worthless life the sigh? 
 They little love who fear to die! 
 
 Would, my Myrtillo, death alone, 
 Could for so dear a crime atone ! 
 
 K 2
 
 180 IMITATIONS. 
 
 Honour, so sacred to the Maid, 
 By Virtue's purest maxims sway'd ; 
 My love I consecrate to thee, 
 Inexorable Deity ! 
 
 And thou, far dearer to this heart, 
 Than ought Existence can impart, 
 Forgive her who must cruel prove, 
 When rigid Honour fetters Love ! 
 
 But if, (each tender thought repress'd,) 
 Revenge inflame thine alter 'd breast 
 Too well thy fatal wish succeeds; 
 Thy hated Amaryllis bleeds !
 
 IMITATIONS. 181 
 
 For thou art all that Life holds dear ; 
 Each time I see thy falling tear, 
 And when I hear thy heart-heav'd sigh, 
 My very spirit seems to die ! 
 
 Thy sighs my Woe's perpetual food 
 Thy tears are Amaryllis' blood 
 And every pang thy bosom bears, 
 Thy Amaryllis more than shares. 
 
 GUARINI.
 
 STANZE AMOROSE. 
 
 SWIFTLY, bounds the mettled courser,- 
 Swift, the flying moments move ; 
 
 Haste, my beauteous Maid, lole, 
 Give the fleeting hour to love ! 
 
 
 Soon is nipp'd the bud of beauty ; 
 
 Quickly fades the flower of Youth ; 
 Seize in time, the blest occasion 
 To reward thy Shepherd's truth. 
 
 Cynthia, glittering in yon river, 
 
 Meekly sheds her paly ray ; 
 Soon Aurora's mantling blushes 
 
 Usher in the new born day :
 
 IMITATIONS. 183 
 
 Winter strips the leafy forest, 
 
 Frost and snow deform the year; 
 Soon returns the Vernal season ; 
 
 Soon the infant buds appear. 
 > 
 
 We, but flourish for one summer 
 That elaps'd, no more can boast ; 
 
 Death entombs our hopes in darkness- 
 When the light of life is lost. 
 
 Ghosts in dreary realms of Pluto, 
 Ne'er the softer passions prove ; 
 
 They immers'd in cold Oblivion- 
 Lend no more the thought to love.
 
 184 IMITATIONS. 
 
 While allow'd to taste of pleasure- 
 Blameless bliss, without alloy ; 
 
 While lole's young and blooming- 
 Give the laughing hours to joy ! 
 
 We'll despise each idle rumour, 
 Of that age, to love severe 
 
 When the tresses silver 'd over, 
 Speak the grisly Phantom near. 
 
 Swiftly bounds the mettled courser; 
 
 Swift the flying moments move ; 
 Haste ! oh haste my best lole ! 
 
 Give the fleeting hour to love ! 
 
 ANON.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 P. 8. L.7. 
 
 Hail seats of Alfred ! hail sequester* d shades! 
 THE beauty of the walks of Christchurch and Magdalen 
 Colleges, attracted the attention and admiration of Louis XVIIIih., 
 (now happily restored to the throne of his ancestors) : And, in- 
 deed, very few that have met my observation can compare with 
 them in their distinguishing features. The avenue at Christchurch 
 is singularly noble, and the walk round the meadow well laid 
 out, and pleasingly varied. Magdalen grove is more sequestered, 
 one part of which still retains the name of " Addison's Walk," 
 from having been his favourite lounge when at that College. 
 The appearance of Oxford, from various points of view, is very 
 venerable and imposing. 
 
 P. 9. L. I. 
 
 The brother Wartons caught poetic fire. 
 
 The Wartons would have been an honour to any University : 
 with Dr. W. I was intimately acquainted ; whose genuine wit, 
 nntinctured by asperity, lively conversation, and amiable manners, 
 " Can I ? ah no ! I never can forget 
 " While Memory holds her seat." 
 
 P. 9. L. 10. 
 
 Here Heber's stripling Muse pourtray'd the fate. 
 Heber's prize poem of Palestine, composed at the age of 
 nineteen, possesses the genuine Vim poeticam : it has since formed 
 the basis of a celebrated Oratorio by Dr. Crotch, Professor of 
 Music in the University; with whose person, and extraordinary 
 powers, I was acquainted at a very early period ; and whose 
 wonderful precocious talents I have often witnessed. 
 
 P. 10. L. 14. 
 
 Blenheim, the offering of a grateful land. 
 
 Blenheim, tho* a heavy, is a very majestic structure, and has 
 more the appearance of a Palace than any I have seen in Britain : 
 the Park is extensive, and abounds in varied view.
 
 186 NOTES. 
 
 P. 12. L. 8. 
 
 Thy forests, Windsor, and thy green retreats. 
 There is much beauty and repose in the style of scenery that 
 characterises the Vale of Thames; arising from the luxuriant 
 woods and meadows, interspersed with seats of the Nobility and 
 Gentry, discovered at intervals through the trees. But though 
 there are many beautiful prospects, I do not recollect any pos- 
 sessing the characteristics of sublimity. 
 
 P. 13. L. 8. 
 
 And Tunbridge, fam'dfor rill medicinal. 
 The views in the vicinity of Tunbridge Wells are beautifully 
 varied ; and the late Mr. Cumberland had such an opinion of the 
 salubrity of the air, that he mentions, in his memoirs, having 
 never been confinee* to his room by illness for a single day during 
 a residence of twenty years. Hawk-hurst Bayham Abbey 
 Stoneland Park Penshurst Place Harrison's Rocks and the 
 high Rocks, only a mile and a half distant merit the attention 
 of every admirer of picturesque scenery. 
 
 P. 15. L. 4. 
 
 No trace of Vernon in the rolls of Fame. 
 
 I remember having read an Epistle from Vernon, written when 
 in the Isle of Wight, and on the eve of leaving his country for 
 India, addressed to his friend Sharp, (bewailing his separation 
 from a female to whom he was tenderly attached) that evinced 
 considerable poetical powers, and much genuine pathos. 
 
 P. 15. L. 11. 
 
 Neighbour of Neptune' s fathomless domain. 
 The coast of Cornwall far surpassed my expectations. I was 
 particularly struck with Fowey and its environs, and also with 
 the grotto at Menabilly, the seat of Mr. Rashleigh, (from whose 
 family I received much attention when in that neighbourhood): 
 his collection of fossils and minerals is esteemed the best private 
 one in the Kingdom. The ruins of Restormel Castle, near Lest-
 
 NOTES. 187 
 
 withiel Kynance Cove, near the Lizard The Harbour and vi- 
 cinity of Falmouth St. Michael's Mount and the Land's End- 
 present specimens of the Beau or the Magnifque. 
 
 P. 16. L. 12. 
 
 Fraclur'd the face of Devon, $c. 
 
 This County is characterised by a variety of scenery and sur. 
 face, from whence it has, not unaptly, been term'd fractur'd : 
 the climate is mild, and nothing (except lakes) wanting to com- 
 plete its attractions. Dartmoor is wild and dreary in the ex- 
 treme: lifracomb sublime and singular: The cascade at Lid- 
 ford, with its accompaniments, highly picturesque ; as is also the 
 country between Exeter and Moreton Harapstead. The Church 
 of Brent Tor, seated on an insulated rock of granite, has a very 
 uncommon appearance: Nothing can be more beautifully se- 
 cluded than the ruins of Berry Pomeroy Castle : the hamlet of 
 Babicomb, sloping to the sea, has a very singular effect ; near it 
 is a marble Quarry, where I saw polished specimens that might 
 vie with the choicest productions of Italy : Torquay is situated in 
 a cove of Torbay : the avenues about Torr Abbey are luxuriant; 
 and the narrow winding lanes, with masses of granite occasionally 
 protruding themselves, give a striking peculiarity of feature to 
 this part of the County. Dartmouth is Fowey on a larger scale ; 
 the walks at the Hermitage on the banks of the Dart deserve a 
 visit. Mount Edgecombe is generally admired; and, as well as 
 the scenery about Linton and Linmouth, must be seen to be 
 adequately appreciated. Sidmouth is a neat town, its environs 
 beautiful ; as are also those of Teignmouth, and Dawlish, com- 
 prising Mamhead, Luscombe, and Oxton House. The banks of 
 the Teign are picturesque in every direction. 
 
 P. 18. L. 5. 
 
 Expand the plains of fertile Somerset. 
 
 The vale of Taunton is proverbially fruitful ; nor is this County 
 destitute of Alpine scenery of no common description, as will 
 be allowed by any one who proceeds from thence to Minehead,
 
 1&8 NOTES. 
 
 and Dulvcrton visits the cliffs at Cheddar and the glen at 
 Wokey. The fine Cathedral at Wells; and ruins of Glastonbury 
 Abbey, will afford much gratification to the Traveller of taste. 
 
 P. 22. L.8. 
 Charlcombe > thy consecrated fabric stands. 
 
 Under the solitary yew tree in Charlcombe Church Yard, is a 
 flat stone with the following Epitaph : viz. 
 
 " Here lies the body of Frederic Augustus Wilmot, fourth son 
 of Sir Robert Wilmot of Osmaston, in the County of Derby, 
 Baronet: and of Mary Ann, his Wife: He departed this life on 
 the 29th December, 1810. Aged 8 Years." Concluding with 
 these affecting lines : 
 
 " Oh is this all ! has Hope but spoken 
 So sweetly in the Parent's ear, 
 To make them weep her promise broken, 
 And seek the perish'd record here ! 
 Oh, why did Nature then bestow 
 Her loveliest tints to deck our blossom, 
 E'en while Death aim'd the fatal blow 
 Which laid it low in Earth's cold bosom!" 
 
 Parents rejoice ! for love sublime 
 
 From earthly stem your plant has riv'n, 
 
 To ripen in a brighter clime, 
 
 And deck the glorious fields of Heaven ! 
 
 P. 33. L.I. 
 
 Of Europe's towns the Queen, in structur'd pride. 
 The scenery along the line of the canal from Bath to Bradford 
 appeared so beautiful to the venerable President of the Royal 
 Academy, who visited it in company with the two Barkers, (both 
 Painters of eminence resident at Bath) that he observed there 
 was no necessity for the Bath artist to travel in quest of subjects 
 for the pencil, when surrounded with such incomparable scenery. 
 Wick Rocks, and Farley Castle, (distant from Bath about six miles 
 rach, but in opposite directions) merit the attention of the curious.
 
 NOTES. 189 
 
 P. 30. L. 3. 
 
 The Lamb of God, to slaughter led for Man! 
 Since Newton, Locke, and others of the greatest capacity, who 
 have examined the principles of Christianity, have all been con- 
 vinced of the truth of its doctrines; what must be the insane pre- 
 sumption of the Infidel, who, (tho' unable to account for his own 
 existence, or even explain the constituent principles of a blade of 
 grass,) strives to unhinge social order and comfort, by question- 
 ing the evidence of a Revelation which inculcates the purest 
 morality, and is eminently calculated to better the heart? But 
 by Pride fell the Angels! what then can be the hopes of the 
 wilfully .blind Infidel ? even infinite Mercy cannot reach him, 
 consistent with infinite Justice! but hope is not extinct till " this 
 corruptible puts on incorruption and this mortal is clothed with 
 immortality ;" Hope is co-eval with the breath of life. Let then 
 the presumptuous Infidel repent! but let him do it instantly! for 
 the next hour nay the next moment his life may be required. 
 
 P. 31. L. 14. 
 
 And that rude cliff, where Guy, (as legends tell). 
 
 Warwick Castle is one of the noblest structures of the kind in 
 
 t 
 
 Britain, as well as the most characteristically fitted up ; and at 
 the distance of less than two miles is the seat of Mr. Greathead, 
 on Guy's cliff', which is precipitous, elevated, and umbrageous, 
 -with the Avon meandering underneath. The paintings in the 
 house by the younger Mr. Greathead (now no more) are in the 
 first style of excellence, tho' by a self-taught artist: his portrait 
 of Bonaparte has the precise expression of countenance one would 
 naturally expect from such a character; and as his Mother thought 
 it the best likeness of her Son she had seen; and the then first 
 Consul had a copy of it taken before Mr. Greathead quitted Paris; 
 no doubt it must have been considered a striking resemblance. 
 The " Cave of Despair" from Spenser's " Fairy Queen," is a 
 chefd'Oeuvre, both in point of conception and execution. There
 
 190 NOTES. 
 
 are several other paintings, one of which is a portrait of the 
 Artist, taken by himself, and esteemed an excellent likeness. I 
 also observed a Bust of Mrs. Siddons, executed by herself, which 
 I immediately recognised to have been intended for that incom- 
 parable Actress, of whom it is an admirable representation. 
 
 P. 34. L. 8. 
 
 Cambria presents a many-featured coast. 
 
 The mountain scenery of Wales is of the most magnificent 
 character: the cascades between Neath and Brecon numerous : 
 those formed by the rivers Hepsey and Purthin, I visited in 
 1812; passed under the sheet of water at Kel Hepsta; and saw 
 the Melta enter the cavern from whence it afterwards emerges. 
 The falls of the rivers Mawddach, and Cain, near Dolgelle are 
 singularly fine : there are also several picturesque ones at Ilafod : 
 these, however, are not equal to the succession of Waterfalls at 
 Pont y Mynach, (usually denominated the Devil's Bridge,} about 
 four miles distant; the effect produced by which, aided by the 
 accompaniments of wood, cliff', and glen, and assisted by alter- 
 nate clouds, and sunshine, was even greater than I experienced 
 atTivoli, in the year 1787; Tresham, the painter, had recently 
 quitted the Cabaret where I took up my abode, the inside walls 
 of which he had embellished with his admirable pencil : the 
 Temple of the Sibyll was in the garden of the Inn; (situated 
 immediately above the great Cascade, and over the Grotto of 
 Neptune,} the interior was occasionally converted into a salle a 
 manger, in which I was regaled with the only piece of roast beef 
 I met with during my absence from England. Whether the de- 
 ceased Artist painted any of the scenes in that beautiful country 
 I am uninformed. 
 
 P. 37. L.19. 
 The Grave of Gelert. 
 
 In the Bibliographical monthly Publication by Sir Egerton 
 Brydges, entitled " Restituta," No. 3, P. 183, is the tale of Pan- 
 tillas, which bears a striking resemblance to the story of Gelert.
 
 NOTES. 191 
 
 P. 44. L.3. 
 
 Where Deva, erst by Britons sacred deetn'd. 
 Pennant observes, " there is no river in England which has 
 been so much celebrated by our Poets for its sanctity, as the Dee :'* 
 and produces several instances, two of which I shall select, viz. 
 
 " Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream." 
 
 Milton* 
 
 " And following Dee which Britons long y gone 
 " Did call divine, that doth by Chester tend/' 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 P. 50. L. 5. 
 
 And oh my country much I grieve to note. 
 The additions to " British Scenery," (amounting to upwards of 
 four hundred lines,) were composed in the years 1812 and 1813. 
 Respecting the assassination of the late Premier, I believe there 
 was, and is, but one opinion amongst every worthy and honest 
 individual of every party. 
 
 P. 56. L. 1. 
 
 Ingenious work of Jolland's curious hand. 
 Lincolnshire, as a County, is not entitled to much celebrity 
 for the picturesque : the structures mentioned may, however, 
 challenge comparison with any of the same kind in Britain; and 
 the Hermitage at Louth, entirely planned and executed by the 
 Rev. W. Jolland, the present Vicar, (whose hospitality and at- 
 tention to me in the Summer of 1810, I shall never forget,) is a 
 surprizing work, when the great labour and ingenuity displayed 
 in its construction, as well as the small space allotted for its se- 
 clusion in the midst of a populous town, are taken into consi- 
 deration. 
 
 P. 38. L. 6. 
 
 In Landscape diverse Caledonia shines. 
 
 I have twice made the tour of Scotland ; and three times visit- 
 ed the Lakes, with increased pleasure : but as many travellers
 
 192 NOTES. 
 
 have given pleasing and accurate descriptions of this part of 
 Great Britain, it is needless for me to expatiate on the individual 
 variety of grand and beautiful scenery to be met with in the 
 North, where the objects are numerous, and the selection difficult. 
 Suffice it to add, that my principal wish and design has been to 
 exhibit characteristic sketches of the most prominent features of 
 British Landscape; and also to interweave and inculcate such 
 moral, political, and religious principles, as may diversify de- 
 scription, and, I hope, contribute to the improvement, as well 
 as amusement of the Reader. If I have in any degree accom- 
 plished this end, I shall not consider my time as having been 
 wholly mispent. 
 
 P. 182. L. 1. 
 
 Swiftly bounds the mettled Courser. 
 The first stanza in the Original is as follows, viz. 
 
 " Amiam/ O bella lola, 
 Amiam : che 1'tempo vola, 
 Veloce piu che dardo 
 Che giunge il lieve pardo." 
 
 Which not having been able to translate literally with any 
 degree of felicity, I have introduced a stanza of my own, in 
 which the leading idea is preserved, and the fleetness of the 
 Courser substituted for that of the Arrow. Some other liberties of 
 the same kind have been occasionally taken in endeavouring to 
 render the sense of several passages in different specimens, which, 
 I hope, may be allowable in one who professes to be merely an 
 Imitator of these choice morsels of Italian poesy; and has at- 
 tended more to the spirit, than the letter, of the Originals. I, 
 however, flatter myself, the deviations are neither numerous, 
 nor of material consequence. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed Sy W. Stratford, Crown Court, Trmplr Bar.
 
 APPENDIX.
 
 a vi a 4
 
 IHREE out of the four following Poems were 
 published anonymously, and all favourably no- 
 ticed by the Antijacobin Revieiv, for May and 
 August 1812, and January 1813. The Epistle 
 to the late lamented Premier received also the 
 commendations of the British Critic, for April 
 1812, The remaining copies are now appended 
 to the Author's Poems, printed at the close of 
 1814.
 
 . b'^ \>> 
 
 1\\ i:^\o Ij'j'iV^yv tj\itntH V> A ^ 
 
 Vnc^V- \j\ f p'.V. t'J '. .' 'V >r,\ '\> v: 
 .
 
 AN EPISTLE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 SPENCER PERCEVAL, 
 
 FIRST LORD OF THE TREASURY, %c. %c. 
 BY 
 
 A FRIEND 
 
 TO 
 
 JP R JE JE JD> 
 ORDER 
 
 AND 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY W. STRATFORD CROWN-COURT TEMPLE-BAR; FOR 
 
 R. BICKERSTAFF, 
 
 CLEMENTs INN. 
 
 1812.
 
 AN EPISTLE, &c. &c. 
 
 HEALTH to the statesman, whose presiding 
 
 mind, 
 
 Unchain'd by party, to no sect confin'd, 
 Makes Britain's general weal its constant care ! 
 (While Wellesley wields the thunder of the 
 
 war); 
 
 O'er whom Religion spreads her glittering vest ; 
 His actions guides, and lightens in his breast. 
 Of blameless morals, and unsullied fame, 
 He justly claims a Patriot's honour 'd name. 
 No Demagogue, by stormy passions toss'd, 
 Who, (fortune, credit, and distinction lost) ; 
 On Tub or Table to the rabble spouts ; 
 
 Reviles the ins, and Deifies the outs ; 
 
 B
 
 But once admitted partner of the ins, 
 Pillow'd at ease the mute Reformer grins ; 
 To new declaimers leaves the field, to dupe 
 With fancied grievances the gaping group ; 
 At Kings, and Ministers, and Peers, to rail ; 
 And pour in witless ears the hackney 'd tale : 
 Profuse of promise, till with power endow'd ; 
 And then the first to villifv the crowd*. 
 
 */ 
 
 * It does not appear to hare occurred to the dupes of these 
 pseudo Patriots, that, by reverting to the first Principles of the 
 Constitution, the majority of Electors in the united Kingdom 
 must necessarily be disfranchised ; which would be much more 
 liable to create dissatisfaction, and confusion, than by retaining 
 all the Boroughs sound or rotten ad infmitum; it being matter of 
 notoriety that when the elective franchise was first conferred, a 
 Freehold of 40s. per annum was nearly, if hot altogether, of 
 equal value with one of 401. per annum at the present moment; 
 so that on this principle no Person, having less than forty pounds 
 a year freehold Property, would be entitled to vote for a Member 
 of Parliament. What would be the consequence of an alteration 
 of this kind, no Person can foresee ; and it would be madness to 
 make the experiment
 
 Not such the conduct, whose attraction won, 
 The equal confidence, of Sire, and Son : 
 Thy Sovereign's friend, thy grateful Country's 
 
 prides 
 
 Long, Perceval, Britannia's councils guide ! 
 To wise restrictions make the rabble bow ; 
 With toleration's wreaths adorn thy brow ; 
 
 But ne'er let hands officious violate, 
 
 Our great Palladium, or in Church, dr State ! 
 
 Of innovation, see a warning given, 
 
 In France's crimes, whipt by offended Heaven ! 
 
 The guiding helm, in these tempestuous times, 
 This fruitful age of punishment and crimes, 
 How hard to steer ! oh ! when will Peace, again, 
 And smiling Plenty, re-assume their reign ?
 
 4 
 
 When will the Demon of insidious Gaul, 
 The dire destroyer of the nations, fall ? 
 O'er- tracts of desolation stern he smiles ; 
 And Europe sways by arms, or cheats by wiles. 
 Iberia still his ruthless rage withstands, 
 And thins invasion's predatory bands, 
 Forth from the deep defile, or tangled spray. 
 The fierce Guerilla pounces on the prey ; 
 In cities fenc'd his fell Banditti coops ; 
 And spreads destruction through his straggling 
 
 troops. 
 
 Oh ! may the cause of Liberty prevail f 
 And Gaul's infernal machinations fail ! 
 
 Much injur'd nation ! how can I relate, 
 Thy gruel wrongs, and unexampled fate ?
 
 Thy King entrapp'd, thy country ravag'd o'er; 
 And chrystal streamlets, changed to streams of 
 
 gore. 
 
 Thy violated matrons mourn in vain, 
 Their infants butcher'd on th' ensanguined plain ; 
 Spare, spare my child ! in vain the Parent's pray 'r ! 
 The Tyrant's bloodhounds never learn'd to spare. 
 
 Behold the shade of Palafox arise, 
 Indignant glances flashing from his eyes ? 
 Spaniards, the Hero cries, rush boldly on ; 
 Avenge the slaughtered sons of Arragon ! 
 See from Gibraltar's steep embattled rock, 
 To fertile plains of northern Languedoc; 
 From Finisterre, to Torruella's shore, 
 The merciless hordes of fell Marauders pour:
 
 O'er Catalonia's desolated plains, 
 And cities raz'd, the butcher Suchet reigns : 
 At Seville, Soult his crimson banner waves, 
 And covers Andalusia's soil with graves : 
 While Marmont his insatiate legions spreads. 
 O'er proud Castile, and fair Segovia's meads. 
 
 Forth from the mountain regions of Navarre, 
 
 Intrepid Mina leads avenging war; 
 
 . < 
 In vain the Gallic myrmidons withstand, 
 
 The fearless onset of th' infuriate band ; 
 Vain are their taunts, their boasted valour vain, 
 Oppos'd in combat by insulted Spain : 
 Three fugitives, escap'd the carnage, bear 
 Th' appaling tidings to Macdonald's ear.
 
 But Freedom's suffering Champions greet my 
 
 eyes; 
 
 In mental view their warrior forms arise : 
 Castanos, Sanchez, Ballasteros, see, 
 And Blake ; th' undaunted sons of Liberty ! 
 To these, Iberia shall the column raise, 
 And Patriot Poets swell the song of praise ; 
 To these, Hispania's dames shall offerings bring, 
 Of chaplets, fragrant with the breath of spring : 
 Th' historic page to future times shall give. 
 Their high exploits ; and bid the heroes live ; 
 In leaves, more durable than brass, shall tell, 
 Who bravely fought, who conquer'd, and who 
 
 fell. 
 
 And oh ! my country, be it thine to share 
 Their glorious toils, and spread the rising war ;
 
 8 
 
 With succours prompt to combat at their side ; 
 By every tie to Freedom's sons allied. 
 Britannia's powerful aid the foe alarms, 
 When Wellington, unconquer'd, shines in 
 
 arms *. 
 
 What nobler spectacle can Europe see, 
 Than realms oppress'd, determin'd to be free ? 
 In vain the Upstart drags his slaves from far ; 
 And fresh conscriptions multiply the war ; 
 Indignant Spain his proffer'd mercy spurns, 
 
 And tho' defeated, to the charge returns. 
 \ 
 
 * It will probably be in the recollection of many Persons who 
 perused the Parliamentary debates during the session of 1809, as 
 given in the Newspapers; that Lord Grenville is there stated to 
 have expressed his conviction, that in six months from that period 
 there would not be a single British soldier in Portugal except as 
 a prisoner: Whether (if that statement is correct) he has been a 
 true or false Prophet, I leave to the Reader to determine.
 
 By second causes, to our senses given, 
 We oft discern the high intents of Heaven : 
 " At the rebuke of one when thousands flee," 
 We read a guilty nation's destiny ; 
 But, when a harrass'd kingdom, undismayed, 
 With undiminish'd ardour draws the blade ; 
 Tho' dire misfortunes may that land assail, 
 Its brave defenders shall at length prevail. 
 
 As when great Julius was ordain'd to feel, 
 The potent force of Brutus' patriot steel ; 
 Conspicuous, through the trackless realms of air, 
 A trailing Meteor shot portentous glare ; 
 First on the confines of the distant sky, 
 Ttie lustrous stranger held his course on high ;
 
 10 
 
 Then nearer Earth his dazzling train he drew, 
 Bursting terrific on th' astonish'd view : 
 The Augurs, sacrificial rites prepare, 
 And deprecate offended heaven with pray'r : 
 So when of late a radiant herald pass'd 
 O'er Europe, now a tributary waste ; 
 Perchance, the harbinger of happier days, 
 He shot through air his salutary rays ; 
 A delegated messenger from heaven, 
 In mercy, to offending mortals given ; 
 To mark the Corsican's descending scale, 
 And bid his wily machinations fail. 
 Oh ! shine retributive, auspicious star J 
 Roll o'er oppression's tools the tide of war :
 
 11 
 
 Shine, the precursor of an Era, bright 
 With happier omens, and successful fight : 
 When rescued Europe doffs her galling chains ; 
 And Freedom, Order, and Religion, reigns. 
 
 Though no\v, through many a subjugated 
 
 realm, 
 
 The giddy Pilots topple from the helm ; 
 This " precious gem set in the silver sea" 
 Remains unconquer'd, happy, great, and free : 
 Spectatress of the war distemper'd scene, 
 Keeps her majestic port, and lofty mein : 
 Onward, with firm and fearless step, she goes ; 
 And, tho' outnumber 'd, triumphs o'er her foes : 
 Where'er her Navy spreads her vent'rous sail, 
 She rides Dictatress ; and her arms prevail,
 
 12 
 
 Protected by his saving power, whose sway 
 The Waves acknowledge, and the Winds obey. 
 
 Firmness and energy the times demand, 
 To keep from Gallic gripe, this favour'd land : 
 For, search our Annals from the days of old ; 
 Of years long pass'd the destinies unfold ; 
 Explore the records of Eliza's reign ; 
 Our Edwards and our Henries, bring again : 
 Let Agincourt's, and Cressy's fields, impart, 
 Consoling omens to each British heart ; 
 Extend the retrospect through History's page, 
 From time's first dawning, to this recreant age : 
 Then, arm'd with such authorities, relate, 
 When timid counsels sav'd a menac'd state.
 
 13 
 
 Nations insulted with impunity, 
 
 Are ripe for Bondage, not for Liberty. 
 
 Thou, who, when 'mid convulsions desperate 
 
 throes, 
 
 Th' ill omen'd Gallic Revolution rose; 
 When Innovation's imps, a harpy brood, 
 Panted to steep their murderous fangs in blood; 
 By Pitt befriended, and to Pitt allied ; 
 With kindred ardour join'd to stem the tide, 
 The slaughter-welling torrent, that dismay 'd 
 The great, the good, and made the brave afraid: 
 How art thou chang'd ! thy vigour pass'd away, 
 Unnerv'd by Whitbread, and desponding Grey. 
 Methinks I see thy Kinsman's shade descend, 
 His country's Saviour, and his Monarch's friend ;
 
 14 
 
 To thee he beckons thee he warns to sliun 
 The shoal of Party, e'er thy race be run ; 
 To join thy country's helmsman, hand and heart; 
 To him, thy powerful influence impart, 
 In these disjointed times: the timorous crew, 
 Abandon ; and thy former course pursue ! 
 So shall the star of Grenville brighter shine, 
 And gild the brows of an illustrious line. 
 
 But what is power or influence, in his sight, 
 Who governs w r orlds, and turns the scale of fight? 
 He, only, can repel the threatening storm ; 
 Our arms propitiate, and our hearts reform : 
 To him, their surest aid, let Britons fly ; 
 His frown is death, his smile is Victory :
 
 His arm alone can guilty nations save, 
 From dire convulsions, and the yawning grave. 
 Oh ! then, to him, let ceaseless prayers ascend ; 
 To him, our knees in deep contrition, bend ; 
 Firm on the " Rock of Ages" build our trust; 
 For Dust we were, and shall return to Dust, 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Stratford, Printer, Crown-Court, Temple-Bar.
 
 AN 
 
 ELEGIAC TRIBUTE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LATE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 SPENCER PERCEVAL 
 
 BY DANIEL CABANEL, ESQ. 
 
 OF LINCOLN'S INN. 
 
 Author of the Tocsin, British Scenery, Poetical Epistle to 
 Mr, Perceval, fyc. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY W. STRATFORD, CROWN-COURT, TEMPLE-BAR} FOR 
 
 R. BICKERSTAFF, 
 
 CLEMENTs INN. 
 
 1812.
 
 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &c. 
 
 ASSASSINATION haunts St. Stephen's walls! 
 " Shorn of its beams" the star of Egmont falls! (a) 
 His country mourns her Patriot-Pilot gone ; 
 His Relict mourns her Earthly comforts flown; 
 His children mourn the Father and the Friend; 
 Religion mourns, and consecrates his end. 
 
 I. 
 
 He ne'er departed from her paths divine ; 
 No selfish purpose stain'd his spotless breast; 
 He shone in human life, and still shall shine 
 In heavenly mansions and the realms of rest. 
 
 (a) The assassinated Premier was the son of the late Earl of 
 Egmont, (who died in -1770,) and born at his Father's house in 
 Audley Street, Nov. 1, 1762. He was named after his Uncle 
 Spencer, his Father having married Catherine Compton, Sister 
 to the late, and eighth Earl of Northampton
 
 4 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 II. 
 
 And thou who erst didst Orient India sway, 
 Renown'd for talent join'd to bold emprise, 
 Attend ! nor scorn th' admonitory lay, 
 When low on earth the Christian Statesman lies. 
 
 III. 
 
 And shouldst thou fall, as fell thy mild compeer, 
 And prematurely press the clay-cold bed ; 
 Say will a nation's blessings grace thy bier ? 
 And o'er thy fate a Martyr s lustre shed? (b). 
 
 (b) " With respect to the Right Honourable Gentleman al- 
 " luded to, I believe no man to have excelled him in public and 
 " private virtues, in acuteness of intellect, or mildness of tem- 
 " per. An intimate knowledge of bis virtues could only be 
 " gained by a long acquaintance. I had little personal acquaint- 
 " ance with him, but so far as I could judge I highly respected
 
 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. $ 
 
 IV. 
 
 And will the gifted Bard thy worth proclaim ? 
 And gild thy 'scutcheon with immortal verse ? 
 Will children, taught to lisp thy honour'd name, 
 Thy pious deeds in artless strains rehearse? 
 
 V. 
 
 Nor deem that Spencer's narrow views inclin'd, 
 To dark Intolerance, or purblind Fear; 
 Thou little know'st the tenor of his mind, 
 No Bigot-feeling found admittance there. 
 
 " his virtues; and I consider the act which deprived him of 
 " existence as a stain upon humanity. The purity of his 
 " character has thrown the lustre of Martyrdom around his 
 
 " memory." 
 
 See Marquis Wellesley's speech in the House of Lords, June 8, 
 1812, as given in the Courier Newspaper of the day following.
 
 6 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But, cradled in the sacred ways of Truth, 
 O'er all he wish'd her radiant beams to shine, 
 To chear with heavenly light the dawn of youth, 
 And point to Palsied Eild the path divine. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Say to the Suppliants of the Mystic Whore 
 Should influence and encouragement be given?(c ) 
 His aim t' avert her Judgements from our shore! 
 His aim to deprecate the wrath of Heaven ! (d) 
 
 (c) Should the prayer of the Catholic petition be granted, not 
 only would persons of that persuasion be capable of filling the 
 highest offices in the state of becoming Legislators and Judges 
 but even the Keeper of the King's conscience, the Lord High 
 Chancellor himself, might be subject to the spiritual sovereignty 
 of the Roman Pontiff; quod Deux avertat ! 
 
 (d) That the Inhabitants of that part of the United Kingdom
 
 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Is this Intolerance ? Reformers say ! 
 
 Is this in chains a free-born race to hold ? 
 
 No 'tis to point the error of their way, 
 
 And lead all Christians to one common fold, (e) 
 
 who profess the Romish Religion have suffered more than their 
 Protestant fellow subjects is a well known fact; as also that the 
 Judgements of the Almighty have fallen with peculiar seventy 
 upon the Catholic Nations of the Continent, viz. 
 
 " Protestant States that have in any measure preserved the 
 " faith of their Ancestors, have in a manner been exempt. Self 
 " defence and wanton provocations compelled England to enter 
 " into the contest. Her firmness, under Providence, blasted the 
 " designs of her malicious enemy against Herself. But her 
 " hapless Allies, already devoted>by the just Judgement of God 
 " to drink in their turn, torrents of blood, inasmuch as they have 
 " heretofore profusely shed the blood of Saints and Prophets, it 
 " exceeded her power to save. The mighty arm of the Lord 
 " snatched her from impending destruction, and withered the 
 " boasted strength of her Foe, when directed against Herself: 
 " but the Angel of the waters, while she was preserved in the 
 " midst of wide extending havock and desolation sternly de- 
 " nounced the vengeance of Heaven again.-t her Popish Con- 
 " federates. They have shed the blood of Saints and Prophets, 
 " and thou hast given them blood to drink; for they are worthy" 
 
 Vide Newton, Faber, and the most approved commentators 
 upon the Prophecies relating to Papal Rome. 
 
 (e) By an enlightened toleration, joined to mild expostulation,
 
 8 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 EC 
 
 Peace to his ashes ! though severe his doom, 
 His trial closed his record is on high 
 Perchance delivered from the ills to come, 
 And singled for an inmate of the sky. 
 
 No more Spectator of his Country's woes, 
 Where Demagogues the Public mind inflame,. 
 Harrass'd by foreign and intestine foes, 
 Domestic Fiends, and Patriots but in name. 
 
 much good might be effected; but, unfortunately, the advocates 
 for, what is erroneously called, Catholic Emancipation, are 
 generally violent in the extreme. Whatever can be safely 
 granted should not be withheld. But, surely, the highest 
 offices in the Realm are not of that description, if we pay any 
 attention to the vital interests either of Church or State.
 
 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 9 
 
 XL 
 
 Where Discord stalks through a divided land, 
 
 Foster'd by bloated Pride and Party-views ; 
 While Faction lifts aloft her flaming brand, 
 Hostile alike to Freedom and the Muse. 
 
 XII. 
 
 No venal Rhymester pours th' applausive strain, 
 
 In flattery school'd, and heedless of desert, 
 
 (Th' adulatory stanza flows in vain) 
 
 'Tis honest praise the language of the heart ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh ! may his Colleagues still the righteous cause 
 Support and still avert th' impending rod ! 
 Preserve inviolate Britannia's laws ! 
 Britannia's altars brook no idol-God. (/) 
 
 (/) It is a lamentable fact that there seems to be a total absence 
 of zeal amongst most of the members of the established church;
 
 10 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 May no Indulgences her Faith profane ! 
 
 No Absolution sanction lend to crime ! 
 
 So shall her Church and State for aye remain 
 
 Pure and impervious to the tooth of Time, (g) 
 
 as if Christianity, instead of being the door to a happy or mise- 
 rable immortality, was merely a political engine to keep society 
 together. What account such timid and worldly-minded nominal 
 Christians will be able to render at that day when every secret of 
 the heart shall be disclosed, is well worth their serious consi- 
 deration. 
 
 (g) The concession of the Catholic claims has been recom- 
 mended on the score of what is called Liberality, and its opposers 
 have been branded as intolerant narrow-minded Bigots. But 
 surely there is a wide difference between Encouragement and 
 Persecution. Toleration Dissenters of every denomination ought 
 to enjoy in the most extended sense of the word. But how a 
 conscientious member of the Church of England, can suffer 
 himself to become a passive instrument in sanctioning a mode of 
 worship which he must consider as idolatrous, is to me inexpli- 
 cable. Unfortunately a general lukewarmness and indifference 
 about Religion appears to be an alarming characteristic of the 
 Present Era. The wisdom of this world too often supersedes tho
 
 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 11 
 
 wisdom that is from above. The wise policy of our Forefathers 
 is become the laughing-stock of their degenerate progeny 
 Moderate counsels are exploded every thing is in extremes 
 old things are passed away all things are become new. Although 
 the tenets and character of the Roman Catholic persuasion remain 
 unchanged, the wise precautions of our Ancestors to guard against 
 the possible predominance of that Religion are now said to have 
 become unnecessary. With respect to such casuists, Mr. Per- 
 ceval, when Solicitor General, in a debate upon the Monastic 
 Institution Bill in 1800, judiciously observed, " that it was the 
 " spirit of the Catholic persuasion to make as many converts as 
 " possible ; indeed it was the principle of every religion to a 
 " given extent, but emphatically so of this, and therefore while 
 " we were talking of kindness to the Catholics, and while we 
 " expected gratitude from them for such kindness, we ought not 
 " to be surprised if that gratitude consisted in their endeavouring 
 " to convert the whole nation; nor should we be angry with 
 " them for making such an attempt, as they believed they could 
 " not obtain for us a greater blessing than to make Catholics of 
 " us all; but it was our business to be on our guard against such 
 " a spirit, since it was utterly inconsistent with that of our Con- 
 " stitution." 
 
 When Lord Howick, (now Earl Grey) brought forward the 
 Catholic question on the 5th of March 1807, Mr. Perceval 
 " considered it as one of the most important and dangerous mea- 
 " sures that had ever been submitted to the legislature. Not the 
 " measure merely, but the system on which it was founded, 
 " excited in him the most formidable objections. Where are we
 
 12 AN ELEGIAC TRIBUTE, &C. 
 
 " to stop if this is granted ? The Protestant interest ought to be 
 " maintained in Ireland. From the arguments used, the Refor- 
 " mation might seem to be only a convenient Political measure. 
 " The incongruity of the law might be great in Theory, but was 
 " it so in Practice? The Presbyterian in Scotland is sacrificed 
 " just as much as the Catholic of Ireland; yet when had either 
 " suffered the penalties of the Act ? He denied that a Catholic 
 " having obtained a commission in Ireland was liable to penalties 
 " in England: the Union sanctioned the Act; and if, after all, 
 " inconvenience did actually occur, the annual indemnity bill 
 " completely covered the case. We must look also to the in- 
 " convenience to the service. One Soldier would go to a Me- 
 " thodist chapel, another to a Presbyterian meeting, a third to a 
 " Roman Catholic church; and the inconvenience would be 
 " greater still in the Navy. If this evil is suffered to increase, 
 " that would ultimately be obtained from the weakness of 
 mcnt, which its Wisdom would be desirous to withhold."
 
 AN ELEGIAC' TRIBUTE, &C. 13 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Scarce four successive Moons had wand away 
 Since first I pennd tli Epistolary lay, 
 Wlien disappointment, madden 1 d into hate, 
 Overturn d the firmest Pillar of the State! 
 The leaden death, with momentary smart 
 Wingd its swift progress through the blameless heart; 
 But, (stopt the crimson current in his veins,) 
 His look benign the speaking corpse retains. 
 Then, Widow 'd Mourner ! check the rising sigh ! 
 Thy Husbands Guardian-spirit hovers nigh ! 
 With pitying eye his native isle surveys. 
 Beset by factious men, and fall' n on evil days. 
 FINIS,
 
 THE PRESENT TIMES; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 OF THE YEAR 1812. 
 
 POLITICO-SA TIRICO 
 POEM. 
 
 BY MARTIN MATTER-OF-FACT, ESQ. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY W. STRATFORD, CROWN-COURT, TEMPLE-BAR} FOR 
 
 R. BICKERSTAFF, 
 
 CLEMENTs INF. 
 
 1812.
 
 THE PRESENT TIMES; 
 
 OR, 
 
 The First Three Months of the Year 1812. 
 
 WHEN tuneful Barbauld once again, 
 Resumes the long neglected strain ; 
 Again, with feeling, force, and fire, 
 Strikes, with maturer touch, the Lyre ; 
 The Lyre, that in departed days, 
 O'er her young forehead twin'd the bays ; " 
 While to the rapt Lancastrian throng, 
 She sweetly lisp'd the moral Song; 
 To Nature next attun'd the string, 
 
 And sung the charms of opening Spring, 
 
 A 2
 
 <2 THE PEESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 While on her faithful Chart appear 
 The beauties of th' " unriperid Year f (a) 
 And many a fragrance-breathing flower, 
 That decks the woodbine-tufted Bower. 
 
 And when th' events of Year the last 
 Are on poetic Tablet trac'd ; 
 
 Say shall my careless Pen presume 
 To rival her superior Plume? 
 
 (a) The early productions of Mrs. Barbauld, when Miss Aikin, 
 are so exquisitely beautiful, that it must be matter of regret to 
 every lover of Poetry that she has not favoured the Public with 
 more compositions of the same Nature. The four following lines 
 have been indelibly imprinted on ray Memory from boyhood, 
 and are, I hope, not unfaithfully given; though it is many, 
 many, years since I read the Poem of which they constitute a 
 part : Nothing can be more appropriately beautiful ; viz : 
 
 " Already see the Snoiv Drop dares appear," 
 " The first pale blossom of th' vnripen'd year;" 
 " Its name, its hue, the scentless Plant retains;" 
 " And, Winter lingers in its icy veins."
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OP THE YEAR 1812. 3 
 
 At humble distance, I pursue 
 Her track, and sketch a nearer view : 
 And still, alas! The Present Times, 
 Abound with tumults, war, and crimes; 
 Still through the ravag'd Globe is seen 
 The fierce marauder's threatening mien ; 
 O'er Europe still is held the rod 
 Retributive, of Europe's God! 
 What Funerals gloom the early year, 
 Of youthful prime, and tresses sear! 
 Besides those gallant souls that die, 
 Chear'd by the shouts of Victory : 
 The titled brow, the Warrior brave, 
 Are undistinguish'd in the grave ;
 
 4 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 The narrow tenement contains 
 What of mortality remains. 
 Pale Death beats down, with equal Foot, 
 The regal Tower, the Peasant's Hut ; (b) 
 Nought can his fateful shaft arrest, 
 Conspicuous in the Garter d breast : (f) 
 Buckingham, Cotton, and Buccleugh, 
 Are gone ; and titled Uxbridge too ! (d) 
 
 (b) Pallida Mors, aquo puhat pede 
 
 Pnttperum Tabernas, Regumque Turres. 
 
 HOR. 
 
 (c) The circumstance of the Prince Regent having had no less 
 than four Blue Ribbands to dispose of at the time when the 
 unrestricted Regency commenced, sufficiently proves the mor- 
 tality that must have taken place among the Knights of the 
 Garter in the course of the preceding year. 
 
 (d) The Duke of Buccleugh died January llth. Sir Charles 
 Cotton February 23rd. The Earl of Uxbridge March 13th. 
 The Marchioness of Buckingham March 16th.
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 5 
 
 And gallant Craufurd, (sad to tell) 
 Before Rodrigo's Fortress fell ; 
 Whose ramparts now, inhum'd, contain 
 The relics of the Chieftain slain, (e). 
 Reforming Tooke is ta'en away 
 And mingles with his Parent clay, 
 
 That doff'd his Sacerdotal Gown, 
 To gain political Renown ; 
 
 But now his mortal Sun is set, 
 Cold lies the Tutor of Burdett! (/) 
 
 (e) This distinguished Officer received a mortal wound while 
 leading on the light Division to the Storm of Ciudad Rodrigo in 
 the evening of January 19th; and was interred, by order of 
 Lord Wellington, in those ramparts he so gallantly assisted in 
 storming. 
 
 (/) This singular Character expired at Wimbledon March 
 18th, aetat: 78. I shall here take the opportunity of adding, 
 that as the advocates for Parliamentary Reform are not agreed 
 among themselves upon any specific Plan, nor can ascertain the 
 benefit to be derived from so rash an Experiment, at a time when 
 our own state is so infinitely preferable to that of the surrounding 
 Nations; I cannot but consider them as little better than Maniacs, 
 or Political Suicides, who cannot or will not take warning by the 
 dreadful examples around them, which to a same Mind would 
 operate as Beacons to avoid the Rocks upon which so many States 
 have suffered Shipwreck.
 
 THE PRESENT TIMES ; OR, 
 
 No art can ward the threaten'd blow, 
 
 That lays terrestrial Worthies low ; 
 
 Nor can the mimic Pencil save 
 
 Its Master from th' Oblivious grave, 
 
 Or Loiitherbourg, thy honoured shade 
 
 Had still the Landscape wild pourtray'd ! (g). 
 
 Events, to those, of deepest gloom, 
 
 Who bound their Prospects with the Tomb ! 
 
 But to the humble contrite breast, 
 
 A summons to the realms of rest ; 
 
 A passport to that happy shore, 
 
 Where Grief and Pain are known no more ! 
 
 (g) This incomparable Artist paid the debt of Nature about 
 the middle of March, after a long series of sufferings; of whom 
 it may be recorded that his transcendent Genius in his Profession 
 was only exceeded by his virtues as a Man, according to every 
 account I have heard of his character.
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 7 
 
 Muse to the Regent tune the strain, 
 Sing the fifth Harry come again I 
 Upon his Princely plumage, see 
 Reclines the Bird of Victory ! 
 Of Banda, and Rodrigo, tell ; 
 And how Batavia's bulwark fell ; 
 Bourbon, Mauritius, swell the story, 
 Of Gallic loss, and British Glory ; 
 Th' exploits of Wellington record, 
 Of Graham, and of Beresford ; 
 Of Hill (who always does his duty) 
 Skerrett, Gillespie, and Achmuty, (h) 
 
 (A) The particular achievements of the above distinguished 
 officers, are too recent, and well known, to require either enu- 
 meration or eulogium. 
 
 B
 
 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 Of every Colony bereft, 
 
 Not one poor Settlement is left, 
 
 One single. Isle for us to wrench 
 
 From Holland, Denmark, or the French, (z) 
 
 i 
 But, what's all this, (the Party say 
 
 Marsliall'd by Grenville and by Grey,) 
 Success in Portugal and Spain, 
 Does nothing but our coffers drain ; 
 Of Manufactures cause stagnation, 
 And Pauperise the Population ; 
 We wish to husband your resources, 
 And neither Money send, nor forces : 
 
 (i) The tide of success, (as far as Britain is individually con- 
 cerned,) has been uninterrupted since the commencement of the 
 Regency ; and in the East, (as Lord Minto observes) " we have not 
 an enemy or a rival from the Cape of Good Hope to Cape Horn."
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 
 
 Let Boney, with our free consent, 
 
 Enslave and sack the Continent ; 
 
 And, when he's no one left to fight, 
 
 O'erwhelm us with concentric might ; 
 
 Ships, Colonies, Trade, let him have, 
 
 Cries Whitbread, Peace is all I crave I (k) 
 
 So then, because there's little vent 
 
 For Goods upon the Continent, 
 
 To give all up is wise and civil, 
 
 And send our Commerce to the Devil ! 
 
 (k) It is stated in the Newspapers that this Gentleman, in the 
 course of the debate in the Commons House of Parliament on 
 Wednesday January 9th, expressed himself to the following 
 effect ; " The great object of Bonaparte was said to be the acqui- 
 sition of Ships, Colonies, and Commerce, and that he would 
 never make peace till he had obtained them : If (said Mr. Whit- 
 bread) this be the sole Obstacle to Peace, Would to God, Bona- 
 parte had Colonies ! Would to God that he had Commerce !" 
 
 B2
 
 10 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 I 
 
 But since with them I can't agree, 
 They're welcome to stay out for me : 
 Some worthy Partners too, I wot 
 The Ministerial Firm has got ; 
 Sidmouth, the Foe of Peculation, 
 Obtains a confidential Station, 
 Himself (a Host in good designs) 
 The Ministerial Phalanx joins ; 
 Hostile to change and Revolution, 
 Friend to our genuine Constitution. 
 Nor, Muse, forget the Worth of Eldon ; 
 For what he does is always well-done; 
 True to his Sovereign and his Trust ; 
 The learn 'd, the pious, and the Just ;
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 11 
 
 "Wb 
 
 And may his Acts recorded be 
 In Heaven's eternal Chancery ! 
 For true Religion's Votaries claim 
 A glorious everlasting Name ; 
 Ne'er of their Saviour's cross asham'd, 
 Howe'er by sordid Worldlings blam'd ; 
 But what avails the Scorner's scoff, 
 When this terrestrial Garb drops off? 
 When, " Time shall be no more 1 ' resounds 
 Throughout the Empyreal bounds ! 
 And, well I wot, celestial graces, 
 Outweigh all earthly joys and Places. 
 But Revelation is High Treason, 
 To the redoubted Sons of Reason ;
 
 12 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, . 
 
 * 
 
 Oh may ! thou great Omniscient Cause ; 
 
 The spurners of thy sacred laws, 
 
 (Repentant, e'er the Gulf of Death 
 
 Absorbs their unbelieving breath,) 
 
 Lift up their guilty hearts to thee, 
 
 In deep contrite humility ! 
 
 And may thy mercy to their crimes, 
 
 Thy name exalt in future times ! 
 
 In Britain 'tis alas ! the rage 
 
 In Party combat to engage : 
 
 Each Ministerial proposition 
 
 Must meet determin'd Opposition ; 
 
 Who makes Bank Notes a legal tender, 
 
 Is a most desperate offender ;
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. IS 
 
 For what are they but bits of Paper, 
 Proper for Palm of Linen Draper? 
 But not for Lordly fist to handle ; 
 (Unless indeed to light a candle,) 
 And British Tenants sure must know, 
 There's Gold enough in Mexico : 
 Then why not ship their hoarded grain, 
 Forthwith to transatlantic Spain ? 
 And when there's nothing else to do, 
 Return with Ingots from Peru ; 
 In weighty Bullion pay their rent, 
 And make the lords of Land content ? (/) 
 
 (1} Had any one Member of Parliament, in the late Debate on 
 making Bank Notes a legal tender, suggested this very reason- 
 able, feasible, and unexceptionable expedient, the Minister would 
 have been completely posed, and must of necessity have given 
 up his Plan altogether ; and in a short time Bullion would have 
 become a mere drug.
 
 14 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 Pray why do Grey and Grenville pout ? 
 They would be in, and yet are out ; 
 The Country must be lost, to boot, 
 Of " All the Talents' destitute : 
 Then when their Country goes to pot, 
 Should they be pleas'd ; or should they not ? 
 Nought can their steadfast minds subdue ; 
 Nor Proffer d Place, nor Ribband Blue. 
 To rule the Regent and the Nation 
 They had a wonderous inclination ; 
 And made a very fair proposal, 
 T'have every thing at their disposal ; 
 
 (i) Though the Author of this Poem is by no means inclined 
 to prefer the Grey and Grenville Administration to the present 
 one, (indeed be confesses his inclinations in a slight degree lean 
 to the opposite side) yet not wishing to appear deficient in Can- 
 dour he puts the above question to his Readers, for them to 
 answer at their leisure.
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 15 
 
 But his consent they could not get ; 
 No wonder then they fume and fret, 
 And are in such a grievous Pet ! 
 Since now Pow'r, Patronage and all 
 Fall to the lot of Perceval ; 
 And nought in prospect, or at hand, 
 To chear the disappointed Band : 
 For don't the Regent's actions show, 
 He sides with Perceval and Co ? 
 With Liverpool and Eldon too, 
 And all the Antecedent Crew ? 
 
 But Party feelings I explode : 
 Reader, excuse a little Ode ;
 
 16 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 The product of my youthful brain : 
 
 Thus ran th' Invocatory strain ; 
 
 " Hail Concord, fairest Child of Jove, 
 
 Sister of white-rob'd Peace and Love I 
 
 By thee Unfriended Kingdoms fall 
 
 (While mighty nations rise from small,) 
 
 Empires and States are taught to yield, 
 
 And routed Armies fly the field. 
 
 No jarring Factions can withstand 
 
 The force of one United Band. 
 
 Rome in unrivall'd Glory shone, 
 
 And made a conquer 'd World her own ; (n) 
 
 (n) The following Ode was a school Exercise of the Author 
 composed, in days of Yore, from the following Thesis, which 
 he well remembers, but not from whence it is quoted, viz. 
 
 " Concordid, res parca crescunt ; 
 
 Discordia, maxima dilabuntur." 
 
 And which, (thinking it applicable to the present Crisis) He has 
 ventured to adopt as a Conclusion to the Poem.
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 17 
 
 She from a small beginning rose, 
 Impervious to an host of Foes : 
 Where'er her Eagle rear'd his head, 
 The bravest hostile nations fled ; 
 Whene'er she battled on the main 
 The waves were purple with the slain : 
 Remotest realms her rule allow'd ; 
 And een Britannia to her bowd. 
 
 Though long, in spite of adverse fate, 
 
 ^ 
 
 She, in her pristine glory, sate ; 
 
 Yet Jove, (whose pleasure governs all) 
 
 Ordain'd her towering spires should fall : 
 
 Then, rising from his sun-bright Throne, 
 
 \ 
 Thus made his dreadful purpose known ;
 
 t8 THE PRESENT TIMES; OR, 
 
 Offspring of Maia ! haste, prepare ; 
 On fleetest pinions cut the air ; 
 And wing thy subterranean flight ; 
 To Chaos, and the realms of Night ; 
 There wilt thou find a Monster fell, 
 Sprung from the lowest brood of Hell, 
 Discord her name ; whom Envy bore 
 To Hatred, on the Stygyian shore : 
 Bid her to Rome betake her way 
 And there her blackest arts display. 
 Thus spake the God the son obey'd, 
 And quickly sought the Stygian shade 
 Obedient to the heavenly Sire, 
 The Sprite ascends on Wingsof fire.
 
 THE FIRST THREE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812 19 
 
 As when a storm with fury flies, 
 When billows threat the distant skies ; 
 When Triton seeks his oosy bed, 
 And Thetis hides her dripping head ; 
 So Rome, who erst elate with pride 
 Concordant all the World defied ; 
 Now trembles with commotions dire, 
 While Discord wraps her walls in fire ; 
 Brothers on Brothers spend their rage, 
 And Fathers with their Sons engage : 
 The Monster saw it with delight, 
 And gloried in the hideous sight : 
 Then back to Chaos sped her way, 
 And sudden left the realms of day.
 
 20 THE PRESENT TIMES. 
 
 Here, heavenly Goddess take, thy stand ; 
 And guard Britannia's favour'd land ! 
 May she, like Rome, triumphant rise ; 
 And touch, with towering top, the skies ! 
 May she obtain a deathless name ; 
 And vanquish'd Tyrants swell her fame ; 
 But ne'er may Discord wave her wand, 
 To vex with broils this happy land ! 
 May Concord flourish ; Discord cease ; 
 And Party feuds subside in Peace !" 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Stratford, Printer, Crown-Court, Temple-Bar.
 
 THE PRESENT TIMES, 
 
 PART SECOND; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 OF THE YEAR 1812. 
 
 '9 
 
 POLITICO - SATIRICO 
 POEM. 
 
 BY MARTIN MATTER-OF-FACT, ESQ. 
 
 Tempora mutantur. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 FRINTED BY W. STRATFORD, CROWN-COURT, TEMPLE-BAB} FOR 
 
 R. BICKERSTAFF, 
 ESSEX STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1813.
 
 OR, 
 
 The Last Nine Months of the Year 1812. 
 
 SCARCE had my doggrels Chronico, 
 Politico, Ironico, 
 Satirico, and such like rhimes, 
 Sketch'd with light hand The Present Times; 
 E'er the relentless shaft of Fate, 
 (That strikes the little and the great), 
 At Gordon's breast unerring sped, 
 And stretch'd her with the titled dead, (a) 
 Reft of their hopes, the Opposition 
 Support the Catholic petition ; 
 
 (a) The dutchess of Gordon died in April 1812. 
 
 A
 
 2 THI PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 A famous hocus-pocus trick 
 To give the Ministers a kick ; 
 For if they could contrive to hench. 
 The Premier from the Treasury bench : 
 Altho, (my Readers,) as I take it, 
 Broad bottom would go near to break it; 
 Yet, should they there at last be seated, 
 How poor Old England would be treated ! 
 For did not all their projects fail 
 When in before? pray list my tale. 
 The Dardanelles, and Buenos Ayres, 
 (Where Whitelocke play'd such strange 
 vagaries. (/>) 
 
 (b) It cannot have escaped the recollection of my readers that 
 every expedition planned by the Talent Administration was
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OP THE YEAR 1812. 
 
 And Egypt too (whose hostile shore 
 Was steep'd in vain with British gore ;) 
 Show what the prospects of the nation, 
 Should they attain their quondam station. 
 
 Transported o'er the Western Main, 
 Important News arrives from Spain ; 
 Of ramparts storm'd the Seamen tell, 
 And how Badajoz' fortress fell. 
 But now (a different theme pursuing,) 
 My Muse exchanges Spain for Brewing. 
 
 eminently disastrous; the truth of which is indisputably prored 
 by referring to those sent against Constantinople, Alexandria, 
 and Buenos Ayres, where many valuable lives were lost, tho* 
 the objects proposed were in every instance unattained. 
 
 A2
 
 4 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OK, 
 
 Well I remember Whitbrcad 's stout* 
 And grieve the good old Cask is out ; 
 Well known for worth and Loyalty, 
 And Reverence for Royalty ; (c) 
 Tho' not for noisy disputation, 
 To fill with Malecontents the Nation; 
 On Ministerial shoulders laying, 
 Deficient crops and trade decaying: 
 
 (c) The author of this Poem was at Paris in the autumn of 
 1787, at which time the most unfounded calumnies, respecting 
 the Royal Family of France, were industriously circulated, and 
 too generally believed. These reports were doubtless instru- 
 mental in producing the most atrocious and bloody Revolution 
 that ever sullied the page of History ; and reducing that devoted 
 Nation to their present state of corporeal slavery and moral 
 degradation. May we profit by the dreadful example! and, by 
 rendering " Tribute to whom Tribute is due," " Fear to whom 
 Fear" " Honour to whom Honour," endeavour to preserve that
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 5 
 
 Reckless of an Almighty Power, 
 
 That fructifies the falling shower ; 
 
 That sprinkles Plenty o'er the plain, 
 
 And swells with food the teeming grain ; 
 
 Who now his red right hand displays, 
 
 And vindicates The latter Days. 
 
 Yet Britain surely must agree, 
 
 She still continues great and free ! 
 
 Her punishment, (which might be worse,) 
 
 Is principally in the purse. 
 
 May she then kiss the appointed rod ! 
 
 Her ways reform, and seek her God ! 
 
 subordination in society, which can alone prevent the legitimate 
 Rights of the Prince, and Liberties of the People, from being 
 eventually engulphed in the Ocean of Despotism.
 
 6 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND J OR, 
 
 To him his rightful homage pay, 
 Each rising, and each closing day ! 
 So shall he guard this favour'd Isle, 
 From open Foe or secret Wile. 
 But lo ! an Opposition Brand, (d) 
 Burns to reform this happy land : 
 While wiser Elliott and Ward, 
 The voice of Party disregard, 
 And with uncommon elocution, 
 Support our matchless Constitution, (e) 
 
 (d) The Reader will observe that this gentleman's motion was 
 for what he calls a Reform of Parliament, not for a Reformation 
 Of Manners. 
 
 (e) The noble and disinterested conduct of the above two 
 gentlemen, who sacrificed Party feelings at the shrine of their 
 Country's welfare, will long be had in grateful remembrance*
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 7 
 
 As Pope declar'd, in sober sadness, 
 Great Wit is near allied to madness ; 
 
 The cunning W r Electors 
 
 Two Men chose for their Protectors. (/) 
 
 A tuneful Barber once, ('tis said,) 
 
 These verses at Corfe Castle made ; 
 
 " Ye Men of Corfe ye're slaves, not Men ;" 
 
 " Damm'd up with Banks, bound up with Bonds ; " 
 
 " Cancel your Bonds ! break down your Banks /" 
 
 " And be ye Men again!" 
 
 But ah ! the Barber sung in vain ! 
 
 For both the Bonds and Banks remain ; 
 
 (/) The author humbly requests his ingenious readers to supply 
 him with an epithet of one syllable, that will adequately express 
 the intellectual superiority of the two immaculate Representatives 
 of that immaculate City.
 
 8 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 And still the Men of Corfe endure, 
 A snug divided Sinecure, (g) 
 I own my couplets Hudibrastic. 
 To certain folks may seem sarcastic ; 
 But may I share the fate of Dido, 
 If honest Men don't think as I do ! 
 I hate the narrow Party plan, 
 And ne'er will join the servile clan. 
 A grumbler always makes me sick ; 
 I long to give the Rogue a kick. 
 
 (g) This anecdote I heard when at Corfe Castle in the year 
 1784. With respect to the question of Sinecures, I shall only 
 say, that were I a meritorious old Officer wore down in the service 
 of my King and Country, it would be much more gratifying to 
 my feelings to receive a remuneration in the shape of an ap- 
 pointment to be Governor of an old Castle, (tho' in rains) 
 than to be put upon the list of Parliamentary Pensioners.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 9 
 
 But lo! the Bridge Street Hero comes! 
 Sound the Trumpets! beat the Drums! 
 Let crowds from every part appear, 
 To greet the Patriot Stockineer ! 
 Summon each tuneful cat-gut scraper. 
 To celebrate the City Draper! 
 The Mouthpiece of the Common Hall ! 
 $kiH'd in each trick of wordy brawl ; 
 Gemmen (he cries) we're a lost Nation ! 
 Ground down to powder by taxation ; 
 And Perceval has witch'd the crops 
 Of grain : but did not touch the Hops ; 
 That Beer's so bad must be his fault ; 
 For what are Hops unmix'd with Malt?
 
 10 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 And how make Malt for lack of Barley ? 
 Come Gentlemen let's hold a parley : 
 I doubt we'er going fast to ruin 
 This AVellington is our undoing- 
 And, if friend Boney has the dropsy, (/i) 
 Twill turn our projects turvey topsey ; 
 Then on what subjects we shall vent 
 Our ceaseless yell of discontent 
 I hardly know Speak neighbours wise 
 Shall we for groanings advertise ? (i) 
 
 (A) A report to that effect was current about this time. 
 
 (") This inimitable expedient of the City Demagogue was 
 instantly adopted by acclamation; and advertisements, (or pas- 
 sages tantamount to them) decreed to be regularly inserted in 
 the Statesman, Globe, and Morning Chronicle Newspapers.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 11 
 
 For if the Nation's satisfied, 
 Would I in infancy had died ! 
 In lieu of Bread (my worthy friends) 
 The Board Potatoes recommends ; (K) 
 A scurvy substitute I trow, 
 As you (dear Liverymen) must know. 
 To eat Potatoes is the question, 
 Without a requisite digestion; 
 With Hogs and Oxen they agree; 
 But won't go down with you and me- 
 No that they won't, (cries squeaking Billy) 
 To eat them then is vastly silly ! 
 
 (k) The Board of Agriculture, in the spring of the year 1812, 
 inserted advertisements in several newspapers recommending the 
 increased cultivation of Potatoes, as the best possible substitute 
 for Bread in a season of scarcity.
 
 12 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 Besides I as a Scholar, know 
 The History of Potatoe : (/) 
 Solarium its generic name : 
 Now (fellow liverymen) 'tis shame 
 To give us Nightshade for a treat* 
 And make poor Cockneys poison eat ! (m) 
 'Tis meant to thin the population 
 And leave no Growlers in the Nation. 
 
 (/) I remonstrated seriously with my friend Martin for making 
 the a in Potatoe short which I told him was always pronounced 
 long; butrhe replied that I was quite unacquainted with City 
 pronunciation, and that Billy invariably pronounced it short. 
 So I was forced to give up the point; being sorry to say a Mule 
 is a docile animal compared with Mr. Matter-of-Fact, who is 
 obstinacy personified, (" tho' he's my friend.") Editor. 
 
 (m) I am reluctantly obliged to confess that Billy's objection 
 fe founded in fact, the Nightshade and Potatoe being both com- 
 prehended under Solanum in Botany, though the latter, so far 
 from being poisonous, is highly nutritious.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. IS 
 
 Well Heaven defend me from the set ! 
 
 Hail spotless W e ! (n) pure B < tt ! (o) 
 
 Who went prepar'd for desperate work, 
 
 And storm'd the R -y 1 Fort of Y k; 
 
 But now the Forts repair'd again ; 
 And they are what? two men. 
 
 See Artisans of all vocations, 
 Inflam'd by factious declamations. 
 The labours of the loom despise 
 While Plots and Combinations rise ; 
 
 (n) Vide Mrs. Clarke's Memoirs. 
 
 (o) Vide Miss Scott's case. The author is of opinion that the 
 Baronet might sit for a representation of Purity and Patriotism 
 personified. The only difficulty would be how to combine the 
 attributes of each in the same Portrait: and on more mature 
 reflection B tt should be pquftrayed as. the former, and his
 
 14 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OB, 
 
 Link'd by a murderous oath, and bent 
 T'o'erturn the present Government. 
 Foes to Religion Order Laws 
 Like Cherokees and Chickasaws ! 
 But Savages I beg your pardon ! 
 Your Countrymen I'm rather hard-on ; 
 Who scorn such base assassination, 
 As late disgrac'd the British Nation. 
 Say can the Muse forget thy fall, 
 Belov'd regretted Perceval ? 
 Dark was the deed, and foul the blow, 
 That laid Britannia's Pilot low ! 
 
 incomparable friend as the latter. What a grati6cation would it 
 be to the Dilettanti to see ibis par nobilc fratrum thus represented 
 in the next Exhibition !
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. IS 
 
 And hard the blameless statesman's fate ! 
 By all acknowledg'd good and great. 
 Nor death's cold hand had power t'erase, 
 The mind-mark' d lineaments of face ; 
 The countenance devoid of guile; 
 The placid heart-approving smile. 
 
 Our Steersman gone a motley race 
 Solicit Patronage and Place ; 
 First Wellesley tries to form a band 
 Equal to regulate the land ; 
 Wellesley 's a Host himself 'tis true; 
 And Canning second but to few : 
 The rest such as the World produces, 
 For various ends and different uses ;
 
 Itf ' f HE PRESENT TIMES, PAftT 2ND; OR 
 
 And, post the Author for a liar, 
 If e'er they set the Thames on fire! 
 Then honour'd Moira forms a plan, 
 (A brave and well-intentioned man) 
 But numerous obstacles prevent^ 
 The gallant Patriot's good intent. 
 Disinterested Grenville wishes (/;) 
 With Grey to share the loaves and fishes: 
 And how can Grenville wish in vain ? 
 With All the Talents in his train ; 
 And Nephew George (that verse Empiric) 
 To write his Uncle's panegyric : 
 
 (p) Most of my readers no doubt recollect the unique and 
 generous conduct of this Nobleman, respecting the. two incom- 
 patible offices of First Lord of the Treasury, and Auditor of the 
 Exchequer; in which he was supported by that incomparable 
 Statesman Mr. Fox. risum teneatisf
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 17 
 
 Poetic George who does not know? 
 Or Lisbon with its breast of snow? 
 Or Belem's Castle in the stream 
 Wondering to see its turrets gleam ? (</) 
 
 i' l .'j',mV'. ):>'..' \) i 
 
 , / 
 
 Allur'd by Byron's warblings wild, 
 We listen to his recreant Childe ; (/) 
 Hopeful that e'er the hand of Age 
 Shall close his earthly Pilgrimage 
 More useful Themes, his gifted Lyre 
 Will sound ; for such the Times require ; 
 
 (g) How Ossian's favourite Heroine Malvina the white handed 
 Daughter of Toscar dwindles into insignificance when compared 
 with that Paragon of Perfection the peerless white bosom' d Lisbon ! 
 Vide " Portugal" a Poem by Lord George Grenville 
 
 (r) Vide Lord Byron's " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." This 
 Nobleman shines among poetical Peers "velut inter igncs Luna 
 minores" 
 
 B
 
 18 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND} OR, 
 
 When Vice and Folly hand in hand 
 Gallop triumphant through the Land. 
 In days of Yore a well-stor'd Mind, 
 By Learning soften'd and refin'd ; 
 With manners polish' d yet sincere~ 
 Bespoke the Gentleman or Peer. 
 Now ; None, but Conjurers presume 
 To know the Master from the Groom ! 
 Alike in language and in dress 
 (How alter 'd since the days of Bess!) 
 Bedford poor Man ! is dead and gone ; 
 A Duke and Farmer all in one : 
 Skill'd in the various modes of breeding ; 
 In cutting up ; and cattle feeding.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 19 
 
 Patricians now their Chariots guide 
 With Cocky seated by their side ! 
 While Bang-up Heroes take delight 
 To wheel the mystic figure 8 ! (s) 
 
 Again starts up the Popish question ! 
 At Maister Canynge's wise suggestion ; (t) 
 Back'd by five score of good stout Paddies 
 CulFd from the flower of Irish Laddies : 
 Some say their Object is to lull, 
 The doubting mind of Johnny Bull : 
 
 (5) "ProhPudor! inversique Mores!" 
 
 (t) " Oh ! miracle of Wisdom ! rare suggestion ! Vide 
 " Dragon of Wantlcy:" and Rowley's (alias Chatterton's) 
 Poems.
 
 20 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 For what (thinks John) is to be done, 
 // Church and Constitution's gone? 
 And if- (what sure may come to pass) 
 We go to Guillotine-? Mass I 
 For Johnny has not yet forgot 
 His Prayer Book or the Popish Plot! 
 Nor what his Fathers bought with blood 
 ' Is by their son misunderstood ! 
 And tho' a tender-hearted Wight 
 Attach'd to what is just and right 
 They never shall, (with his consent,) 
 Direct the King and Parliament. 
 He'll grant them all they ought to hope : 
 What would they more? set up the Pope?
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 21 
 
 And then (in furtherance of their work,) 
 Elect a Cardinal of York ? 
 A Legate too, perchance they'll hurry 
 Into the See of Canterbury ! 
 
 Nay ! a Lord Chancellor may bring 
 
 i ~ \ 
 To keep ? the Conscience of the King I 
 
 Such doubts as these has Johnny started . 
 Which make him rather broken-hearted. 
 But why does Paddy make a pother, 
 'Bout Liberty and this and t'other ? 
 Why agitate this favour'd Land, 
 With what he does not understand ? 
 Why will he cry " knock off my chains /" 
 When not a single link remains !
 
 22 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 But Paddy does not know he's fre 
 Unshackled -just like you and me 
 And quite a Lad of Liberty. - 
 A Democrat call'd, t'other day, 
 Where Pat in fancied durance lay ; 
 And said: " Ah! how it grieves my mind" 
 To -see my dearest friend confin'd!" 
 
 (u) The cant about Catholic Emancipation is the most flagrant 
 and pernicious Bull ever imported from the land of Potatoes. 
 If the Irish were emancipated from the influence of the Popish 
 Priesthood, and the exactions of the Middle Men, Y would be 
 " a consummation devoutly to be wished!" while what is miscalled 
 Emancipation would only tend to encourage Superstition; and 
 by increasing and perpetuating the Power of an opulent Oligarchy, 
 enable them to domineer at once over Prince and People ; and 
 thereby undermine the foundation of our incomparable Con- 
 sitution !
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 23 
 
 I'm come with Patrick to condole 
 
 I pity you Upon my soul ! 
 
 Why yes (grins Pat) they say I'm chain'd 
 
 Enslav'd ill treated and restrain'd; 
 
 But ; with a pretty Girl in chase 
 
 'Faith Honey \ I can run apace. 
 
 Th' impartial conduct of the Prince, 
 Has made the Party Coursers wince : 
 And soon (Fll bet you half a crown) 
 They'll fairly throw their Riders down ! 
 And then; I humbly hope and trust- 
 They long will flounder in the dust. 
 The British Charger, (back'd in vain) 
 Will ne'er obey the Talent rein,
 
 24 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 Strange news arrives across th* Atlantic 
 That Jonathan, (y) (become quite frantic,) 
 With half a dozen cock- boats, braves 
 Britannia Empress of the Waves ! 
 Thus Jonathan, Unhappy Man ! 
 Jumps plump into the Frying pan ; 
 And soon will see his pigmy Navy, 
 Safe in the locker of old Davy 
 If met by Sawyer or by Stirling- 
 In western seas their sails unfurling. 
 Nay ; e'en his famous General Hull, 
 Has got a hug from Johnny Bull ! 
 
 (p) Jonathan is a cant word with our Sailors to designate the 
 Americans.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 25 
 
 But (says John Bull) " my angry Brother/' 
 " Why should we worry one another?" 
 " Th' obnoxious Orders are repealed " 
 " And all our wounds may soon be heal'd." 
 *' For ; what advantage can we get," 
 " Mauling each other in a pet?" 
 " Our feuds are Nuts to Buonaparte " 
 " Come then ? strike hands ! be friends my 
 " Hearty!" 
 
 But hark ! the shouts of Triumph rise \ 
 See ! mutilated Marmont flies ! 
 Ting'd with the life-blood of the brave, 
 See ! Tormes rolls his crimson wave !
 
 26 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 
 
 Near Salamanca's letter'd seats, 
 The battle bleeds ; the Foe retreats ! 
 While greener laurels still are won, 
 To grace the brows of Wellington. 
 Proceed ! thou trophied Son of Fame! 
 With Marlbro' equal honours claim! 
 And when, at length, the hungry Worm 
 Shall banquet on thy Victor- form ? 
 When Death (whose hand alone can tear 
 
 Victrix corona from thy hair) 
 
 i 
 Shall (ever faithful to his mark) 
 
 Strike, from thy breast, the vital spark ! 
 Britain (unconquered Chief!) to thee 
 The chissel'd Statue shall decree;
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 27 
 
 Companion of distinguish'd Men 
 Plac'd in the sacred Dome of Wren. 
 Iberia down the stream of Time, 
 Shall waft the Heroe's deeds sublime ! 
 lerne's Bards the strain prolong ! 
 And distant Ages catch the song ! ! ! 
 
 4 ^ 
 
 Hide thy dirnmish'd head, Earl Grey ! 
 
 Prophetic Grenville rise and say! 
 
 What parts of Portugal and Spain, 
 
 Do captive Britons now contain ? 
 
 This might have been the case ; if you, 
 
 And your prognosticating crew, 
 
 Had forc'd yourselves to Power and Place, 
 
 A heartless inefficient race! (a) 
 
 (u>) The Author has made use of the word inefficient purely
 
 28 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 TVas now the Government's decision 
 That; (like " the fabric of a vision") 
 St. Stephen's Council should dissolve! 
 Such was their well-advis'd resolve. 
 Since, " cloud capt Towers' and hallow 'd 
 
 Buildings 
 
 And Palaces enrich'd with gildings 
 All do the same (so says the Poet, 
 And numerous instances will show it ;) 
 Till not a " wreck behind'' remains, 
 Of all the Globe itself contains!!! 
 
 out of compliment to the Duumvirate, knowing their partiality 
 to the epithet when out of office, and their antipathy to it when 
 in.
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 29 
 
 From the bleak regions of the North, 
 The pent up storm at length bursts forth ; 
 Rous'd from his trance ; the Russian Bear, 
 Growls deep ; and whets his tusks for war : 
 Throughout the Baltic's icy bounds 
 The " Note of preparation' sounds ! 
 Around their Chiefs, a phalanx'd band, 
 Compact, the frost-nerv'd warriors stand : 
 With iron front retreating slow ; 
 And dealing many a deadly blow, 
 E'er Moscow's ancient Citadel, 
 Before the Scourge of Europe fell. 
 
 Forth from the Kremlin full of ire, 
 Th' Incendiary 'gins retire ;
 
 SO THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND; OR, 
 
 The Hetman Platow far and near 
 Hangs on his flanks, and galls his rear ; 
 A cloud of Cossacks night and day 
 Impedes his wet and weary way, 
 Th' unforag'd steed extended lies ; 
 The ruthless Tyrantrouted flies ! 
 The rude and rugged Muscovite 
 Shall chant the wonders of the fight ! 
 To Kutusoff devote the lay 
 And echo Platow's loud Hourra!!! 
 The delegated Northern Star, 
 Spreads havoc through the ranks of war : 
 Soon may it seal th' Invader's doom ! 
 And nations revel o'er his tomb, 
 .
 
 THE LAST NINE MONTHS OF THE YEAR 1812. 31 
 
 But ah ! no heaven-commission'd dart, 
 Has reach'd (as yet) th' Oppressor's heart. 
 Still Europe mourns her weltering plains 
 For still the fell Napoleon reigns ! ! 
 
 The day contracts ; the year declines ; 
 The Sun with fainter influence shines. 
 The Grove's green honours, now are past : 
 The Forest trembles to the blast. 
 Such is the fleeting state of Man ! 
 The Year of Life, is but a span!!! 
 The sports of Childhood soon are gone ; 
 Youth's airy prospects, quickly flown ; 
 Nor Manhood long shall tread the stage ; 
 Succeeded by decrepit Age.
 
 32 THE PRESENT TIMES, PART 2ND. 
 
 And (Oh! my friends remember this!) 
 
 In seats of Misery or Bliss, 
 
 When the frail Body shall decay 
 
 The Soul shall live through Heaven s eternal Day.!!! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Stratford, Printer, Crown-Court, Temple-Bar.
 
 ii Mini ill II III |l HIM nil) HI || (If | mi 
 
 A 000 236 537 7