ENGLAND AND SPAIN;' OR, VALOUR AND PATRIOTISM. "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. (321) 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 glitt'ring 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, Lo! Britain's gen'rous host their aid supply, Illustrious names! still, still united beam, Descend, oh Genius! from thy orb descend! 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, Where Science mounts in radiant car sublime, 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; Victorious RODNEY spread thy thunder's sound, Bright in the annals of th' impartial page, Lords of the wood and monarchs of the plain; Still have her warriors borne th' unfading crown, 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 repell'd Saladin's might! VOL. I. 28 |