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- “His sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country's cause." - POPE.

Too long have Tyranny and Power combined,
To sway, with iron sceptre, o’er mankind;
Long has Oppression worn th' imperial robe,
And Rapine's sword has wasted half the globe !
O’er Europe's cultured realms, and climes afar,
Triumphant Gaul has pour'd the tide of war:
To her fair Austria veil'd the standard bright;
Ausonia's lovely plains have own'd her might;
While Prussia's eagle, never taught to yield,
Forsook her tow'ring height on Jena's field !

Oh! gallant Frederic! could thy parted shade Have seen thy country vanquish'd and betray'd; How had thy soul indignant mourn'd her shame, Her sullied trophies, and her tarnish'd fame ! When Valour wept lamented BRUNSWICK's doom, And nursed with tears the laurels on his tomb; When Prussia, drooping o'er her hero's grave, Invoked his spirit to descend and save;

? Written at the age of fourteen.


Then set her glories— then expired her sun,
And fraud achieved e'en more than conquest won!

O'er peaceful realms, that smiled with plenty gay, Has desolation spread her ample sway; Thy blast, oh Ruin! on tremendous wings, Has proudly swept o'er empires, nations, kings! Thus the wild hurricane's impetuous force, With dark destruction marks its whelming course, Despoils the woodland's pomp, the blooming plain, Death on its pinion, vengeance in its train !

Rise, Freedom, rise ! and, breaking from thy trance, Wave the dread banner, seize the glittring lance! With arm of might assert thy sacred cause, And call thy champions to defend thy laws ! How long shall tyrant power her throne maintain ? How long shall despots and usurpers reign ? Is honour's lofty soul for ever fled ? Is virtue lost ? is martial ardour dead ? Is there no heart where worth and valour dwell, No patriot WALLACE, no undaunted Tell? Yes, Freedom, yes! thy sons, a noble band, Around thy banner, firm, exulting stand; Once more, 't is thine, invincible, to wield The beamy spear and adamantine shield ! Again thy cheek with proud resentment glows, Again thy lion-glance appals thy foes; Thy kindling eye-beam darts unconquer'd fires, Thy look sublime the warrior's heart inspires; And, while to guard thy standard and thy right, Castilians rush, intrepid, to the fight,

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Lo! Britain's gen'rous host their aid supply,
Resolved for thee to triumph or to die !
And Glory smiles to see Iberia's name
Enroll'd with Albion's in the book of fame!

Illustrious names ! still, still united beam,
Be still the hero's boast, the poet's theme:
So, when two radiant gems together shine,
And in one wreath their lucid light combine ;
Each, as it sparkles with transcendent rays,
Adds to the lustre of its kindred blaze. .

Descend, oh Genius! from thy orb descend !
Thy glowing thought, thy kindling spirit lend !
As Memnon's harp (so ancient fables say)
With sweet vibration meets the morning ray,
So let the chords thy heavenly presence own,
And swell a louder note, a nobler tone;
Call from the sun, her burning throne on high,
The seraph Ecstasy, with lightning eye;
Steal from the source of day empyreal fire,
And breathe the soul of rapture o'er the lyre!

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Hail, Albion! hail, thou land of freedom's birth!
Pride of the main, and Phoenix of the earth!
Thou second Rome, where mercy, justice, dwell,
Whose sons in wisdom as in arms excel !
Thine are the dauntless bands, like Spartans brave,
Bold in the field, triumphant on the wave;
In classic elegance, and arts divine,
To rival Athens' fairest palm is thine;
For taste and fancy from Hymettus fly,
And richer bloom beneath thy varying sky,

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Where Science mounts in radiant car sublime,
To other worlds beyond the sphere of time!
Hail, Albion, hail! to thee has fate denied
Peruvian mines and rich Hindostan's pride ;
The gems that Ormuz and Golconda boast,
And all the wealth of Montezuma's coast:
For thee no Parian marbles brightly shine ;
No glowing suns mature the blushing vine;
No light Arabian gales their wings expand,
To waft Sabæan incense o'er the land;
No graceful cedars crown thy lofty hills,
No trickling myrrh for thee its balm distils;
Not from thy trees the lucid amber flows,
And far from thee the scented cassia blows:
Yet fearless Commerce, pillar of thy throne,
Makes all the wealth of foreign climes thy own;
From Lapland's shore to Afric's fervid reign,
She bids thy ensigns float above the main ;
Unfurls her streamers to the fav'ring gale,
And shows to other worlds her daring sail :
Then wafts their gold, their varied stores to thee,
Queen of the trident! empress of the sea !

For this thy noble sons have spread alarms, And bade the zones resound with Britain's arms ! Calpe's proud rock, and Syria's palmy shore, Have heard and trembled at their battle's roar;. The sacred waves of fertilizing Nile Have seen the triumphs of the conquering isle; For this, for this, the Samiel-blast of war Has rollid o'er Vincent's cape and Trafalgar!

Victorious RODNEY spread thy thunder's sound,
And Nelson fell, with fame immortal crown'd;
Blest if their perils and their blood could gain,
To grace thy hand—the sceptre of the main !
The milder emblems of the virtues calm,
The poet's verdant bay, the sage's palm;
These in thy laurel's blooming foliage twine,
And round thy brows a deathless wreath conbine:

Are hallow'd more than Avon's haunted side;
Nor is thy Thames a less inspiring theme,
Than pure Ilissus, or than Tiber's stream.

Bright in the annals of th' impartial page, Britannia's heroes live from age to age ! From ancient days, when dwelt her savage race, Her painted natives, foremost in the chase, Free from all cares for luxury or gain, Lords of the wood and monarchs of the plain ; To these Augustan days, when social arts, Refine and meliorate her manly hearts; From doubtful Arthur, hero of romance, King of the circled board, the spear, the lance; To those whose recent trophies grace her shield, The gallant victors of Vimiera's field; Still have her warriors borne th' unfading crown, And made the British flag the ensign of renown.

Spirit of ALFRED! patriot soul sublime ! Thou morning-star of error's darkest time! Prince of the lion-heart! whose arm in fight, On Syria's plains repellid Saladin's might!

VOL. I. - 28

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