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Relentless Hannibal, in pride
Of sworn, fix'd hatred, lowers; Cæsar,- 'tis Brutus at his side, In peerless grandeur towers.
With moonlight softness Helen's charms
The leading star of Greece in arms,
see the bard arise!
And hark!- he strikes the lyre;
The Dardan warriors lift their eyes,
And while his music rolls along,
For still around the eternal walls
And Hector conquers, Hector falls,
Genius of Homer! Were it mine
To track thy fiery car,
And in thy sunset course to shine
A radiant evening star,
What theme, what laurel might the Muse Reclaim from ages fled?
What realm-restoring hero choose
Yonder his shadow flits away:
Thou shalt not thus depart;
Stay, thou transcendent spirit, stay,
And tell me who thou art!
"Tis Alfred! In the rolls of Fame,
A Danish winter, from the north,
But Alfred, like the spring, brake forth,
Back to the deep he roll'd the waves,
By mad invasion hurl'd;
His voice was liberty to slaves,
Defiance to the world.
And still that voice o'er land and sea
Shall Albion's foes appal;
The race of Alfred will be free;
But lo! the phantoms fade in flight,
Like meteors gleaming through the night,
The vision of the tomb is past;
In what mysterious region cast
I know not, but I soon shall know
For see, on Death's bewildering wave,
The rainbow Hope arise,
A bridge of glory o'er the grave,
That bends beyond the skies.
From earth to heaven it swells and shines
THE CAST-AWAY SHIP.
The subjects of the two following poems were suggested by the loss of the Blenheim, commanded by Sir Thomas Trowbridge, which was separated from the vessels under its convoy, during a storm in the Indian Ocean. -The Admiral's son afterwards made a voyage, without success, in search of his father. - Trowbridge was one of Nelson's captains at the Battle of the Nile, but his ship unfortunately ran a-ground as he was bearing down on the enemy.
A VESSEL Sail'd from Albion's shore,
To utmost India bound,
Its crest a hero's pendant bore,
With broad sea-laurels crown'd
many a fierce and noble fight,
gay and gallant company,
With shouts that rend the air,
For warrior-wreaths upon the sea,
Their joyful brows prepare;
The deep, that like a cradled child
In breathing slumber lay,
More warmly blush'd, more sweetly smiled,
As rose the kindling day:
Through ocean's mirror, dark and clear,
In morning's rich array;
The land is lost, the waters glow, 'Tis heaven above, around, below.
Majestic o'er the sparkling tide,
With swelling winds in shadowy pride,
- But, fearful of the fickle wind,
When, lessening through the flood of light, Their leader vanish'd from her sight.
Oft had she hail'd its trophied prow,
Victorious from the war,
And banner'd masts that would not bow,
Oft had her oaks their tribute brought,
Had cursed it on its homeward way,
"The spoiler shall become the prey.”