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For though, while through our parts we swell and pant,
We fun your ears with mock-heroic rant,
We trust " to pay their fuff'rings through your eyes,"
By the bright splendour of the gay disguise
In which our heroes, (nor let critics grin,)
Bedight in robes of “ bunting lac'd with tin,"
As Kings or Emperors, with mimic rage,
Strut their short hour upon this “ " feating flage."
In times of yore, as grave old authors write,
Poets poffess'd a kind of " second fight;"
And could (though, entre nous, 't was all a hum)
Inform you clearly of “ events to come!"
Oh! could the bard, who, to amuse your time,
Has manufactur'd all this “ doggrel rhyne,”
From mortal mifts clear his desiring eyes,
And pry into your future destinies;
He would foretell-(nor ask you, as a charm,
Like other foothsayers" to cross his palm, 1'
What-yes! he sees-muft on your courage wait,
A happy fortune, and a glorious fate !"
Yes !-he forefees-confirm his profpects, Heaven!)
Yon coop'd-up boasters *" to your wishes given!
Sees their proud enligns from their standards torn,
Their vanquilh'd navies in glad triumph borne;
Sees added laurels grace our Nelson's brow,
And victory hov'ring o'er his glowing prow;
His conquiring banners o'er the waves unfurl'd,
And Britain's thunder rule the wat'ry world!
If aught of prescience to the muse belong,
Soon, soon the scenes that animate her song,
In glowing colour's shall salute your eyes,
And Heav'n shall bid th' auspicious morn arise,
When France and Spain shall be again subdu’d,
And
your

" brave leader's'' victories renew'd!
Then, to reward your persevering toils,
With hovours crown'd-enrich'd with hostile spoils,
(Her bravest fons-her guardian failors' friend,
Your grateful country" Thall her arm extend,

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* The Combined Fleets, who, though fuperior to the British blockading fleet, by eight fail of the line, remain under the protection of their batteries in disgraceful security.

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To greet your glad return with confcious pride,
And in her bolom bid your cares subside!
And, while our fam'd Britannia fhall refort,
In awful grandeur, to her wish'd-for port,
Her loveliest daughters shall with pleasure meet
And bless « the heroes of the British fleet .!"
Your wives, your children, and your friends shall come,
With tears of joy, to bid you 66 welcome home!"
Nor storins nor battle more your bliss shall mar,

and plenty crown the toils of war!" O&tober 14, 1805:

BRITANNICUS. 24th O&ober.–After the above was composed, the great and important victory, of which it almoft appears a prophetic anticipation, was actually achieved ; but, alas! at the expense of the life of the brave and amiable Lord Nelson, who died as he had lived, a hero, in the arms of victory.

66 But, peace

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TRAFALGAR.-OCTOBER 21, 1805.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN.

[From the Morning Chronicle.)

TO

the calm river haul your boats again,

Nor trust, ye fishermen! the threatening main.
The sun turns pale, and o'er the affrighted fails
A gloomy darkness through the air prevails.
He who triumphant spreads the swelling sheet,
And guides to victory a faithful fleet,
The fure defence of British fame and lives,
The great avenger of the Nile, arrives.
If bis strong arın destroy yon hostile woud,
Whofe cumbrous weight o'erloads the foaming flood;
Proclaim to France and Europe's diftant climes
A second Pompey lives in modern times.

The sea-weed trembles, waves disorder'd ruar ;
Horror prevails along the laughing fhore,
The verdant plains and hills of Trafalgar;
The falling wind loud bellows from afar :

The

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For though, while through our parts we fwell and pant,
We fun your ears with mock-heroic rant,
We trust'' to pay their fuff'rings through your eyes,"
By the bright splendour) of the gay disguise
In which our heroes, (nor let critics grin,)
Bedight in robes of “ bunting lac'd with tin,"
As Kings or Emperors, with mimic rage,
Strut their short hour upon this “floating flage."
In times of yore, as grave old authors write,
Poets possess'd a kind of second fight ;'
And could (though, entre nous, 't was all a hum)
Inform you clearly of “ events to come!!"
Oh! could the bard, who, to amuse your time,
Has manufactur'd all this “ doggrel rhynie,
From mortal mifts clear his desiring eyes,
And pry into your future destinies;
He would foretell-(nor ask you, as a charm,
Like other foothsayers" to cross his palm,)"
What-yes! he fees-muft on your courage wait,
" A happy fortune, and a glorious fate!"
Yes!-he foresees(confirm his profpeels, Heaven!)
Yon coop'd-up boasters *" to your wishes given !
Sees their proud ensigns from their standards torn,
Their vanquish'd navies in glad triumph borne;
Sees added laurels grace our Nelson's brow,
And victory hov'ring o'er his glowing prow;
His conqu’ring banners o'er the waves unfurld,
And Britain's thunder rule the wat'ry world!
If aught of prescience to the muse belong,
Soon, soon the scenes that animate her song,
In glowing colours thall salute your eyes,
And Heav'n shall bid th' auspicious morn arise,
When France and Spain shall be again subdu'd,

66 brave leader's'' victories renew'd!
Then, to reward your persevering toils,
With honours crown'd-enrich'd with hostile spoils,
(Her bravest sons--her guardian failors' friend,
Your grateful country's shall her arm extend,

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And your

* The Combined Fleets, who, though fuperior to the British blockading fleet, by eight fail of the line, remain under the protection of their batteries in disgraceful security.

To

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To greet your glad return with confcious pride, .
And in her bolon bid your cares subside!
And, while our fam'd Britannia shall resort,
In awful grandeur, to her wish'd-for port,
Her loveliest daughters shall with pleasure meet
And bless " the heroes of the British fleet!!!!
Your wives, your children, and your friends shall come,
With tears of joy, to bid you

6 welcome home !""
Nor storins nor battle more your bliss Mall mar,

" But, peace and plenty crown the toils of war !" October 14, 1805:

BRITANNICUS, 24th October.-After the above was composed, the great and important victory, of which it almost appears a prophetic anticipation, was actually achieved; but, alas! at the expense of the life of the brave and amiable Lord Nelson, who died as he had lived, a hero, in the arms of victory.

TRAFALGAR.-OCTOBER 21, 1805.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN,

[From the Morning Chronicle.]
To the calm river haul your hoats again,

Nor trust, ye fishermen! the threateiring main.
The fun turns pale, and o'er the affrighted fails
A gloomy darkness through the air prevails.
He who triumphant spreads the swelling theet,
And guides to victory a faithful fleet,
The fure defence of British fame and lives,
The great avenger of the Nile, arrives.
If his ftrong arm destroy yon hostile wood,
Wbofe cumbrous weight o'erloads the foaming flood;
Proclaim to France and Europe's diftant climes
A second Pompey lives in modern times.

The sea-weed trembles, waves disorder'd ruar ;
Horror prevails along the laughing More,
The verdant plains and hills of Trafalgar ;
The falling wind loud bellows from afar :

The

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The broken billows o'er each other roll,
And wild commotion overwhelms the whole.
The tempeft reigns ! when, with uplifted hand,
(Tremendous fign!) the hero gives command:
- Ere from your quarters or the heim you fly,
Your anxious country calls on you to die."
Like the thrill note the silver trumpet sounds,
The voice magnanimous, with speed, rebounds
From ship to ship :-a warlike ardour few
Threatening and fierce, through every valiant crew,
Eager and burning, in the raging fight,
To snatch the new-rais'd eagle from its height.
O thou, great Neptune's ever.honour'd son!
What by a conquer'd foe can now be done?
Nought (thuugh his manly heart be firm and brave,)
But basely yield, or meet a watery.grave.

Victorious chief! Death stops his great career!
Can that strong breast, insensible of fear,
That mortal fire which blaz'd the nations round,
Ee quench'd by founding iron's cruel wound?
The world's delighe-his country's glorious boast,
Fall, as by sunbeams ice, or Rowers by frost?
äh! with tou strong, too certain valour grac'd !
Sure, the last laurel had the gods displeas'd :
Jove would have kill'd him in some future wars,
Left he made England richer than the stars.

To deck his tomb, from diftant realms explo:€
The finest marble and the purest ore.
Let his great deeds the sculptor's art employ,
And on his urn mix equal tears and joy.
Let Envy's figure on the base be plac'd
Her tatter'd garments hanging from her waist.
Nor froni the muse's pen his praises feek,
He speaks, has spoken, will for ever speak.
From his example, Britons, ne'er depart,
Preserve bis living image in your heart.

Glory enough, if on his tomb appears
NELSON, alone in golden characters.
How Nelson liv'd, how gloriously he fell,
Fame, and fame only, has the right to tell.

THE

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