ODE TO THE VOLUNTEERS OF BRITAIN, ON THE PROSPECT OF INVASION. O FOR the death of those How beautiful in death The WARRIOR's corse appears, Their loveliest native earth Enshrines the fallen brave; In the dear land that gave them birth But the wild waves shall sweep BRITANNIA'S foes away, And the blue monsters of the deep Be surfeited with prey.— No! they have 'scaped the waves, 'Scaped the sea-monsters' maws; They come! but O, shall GALLIC SLAVES Give ENGLISH FREEMEN laws? By ALFRED's Spirit, No! -Ring, ring the loud alarms; Ye drums, awake! ye clarions, blow! Ye heralds, shout "To arms! To arms our Heroes fly; And, leading on their lines, The BRITISH BANNER in the sky, The star of conquest shines. The lowering battle forms Its terrible array; Like clashing clouds in mountain-storms. That thunder on their way: The rushing armies meet; - And while they pour their breath, The strong earth shudders at their feet, Ghosts of the mighty dead! Your children's hearts inspire; And while they on your ashes tread, The dead to life return; Our Fathers' spirits rise; My brethren, in YOUR breasts they burn, They sparkle in YOUR eyes. Now launch upon the foe The lightning of your rage; Strike, strike the assailing giants low, The TITANS of the age. They yield, they break, they fly; - — ― The victory is won: Pursue! they faint, they fall, they die: O stay!- the work is done. Spirit of VenGEANCE! rest: Sweet MERCY cries, " Forbear!" She clasps the vanquish'd to her breast; Thus vanish BRITAIN'S foes From her consuming eye; But rich be the reward of those O'ershadowing laurels deck The living HERO's brows; But lovelier wreaths entwine his neck, His children and his spouse. Exulting o'er his lot, The dangers he has braved, He clasps the dear ones, hails the cot, Which his own valor saved. Daughters of ALBION, weep: Your fathers, husbands, brethren sleep O gently close the eye That loved to look on you; O seal the lip whose earliest sigh, Whose latest breath was true: With knots of sweetest flowers Their winding-sheet perfume; And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb. For beautiful in death The WARRIOR's corse appears, Embalm'd by fond AFFECTION's breath, And bathed in WOMAN's tears. Give me the death of those Who for their country die; Their loveliest mother Earth In her sweet lap who gave them birth 1804. THE VIGIL OF ST. MARK. RETURNING from their evening walk, EDMUND, the monarch of the dale, ELLA, the lily of the vale, The rose of AUBURN's bowers. In airy Love's delightful bands The Nymph denied her willing hands TO HYMEN's awful chain. "Ah! why," said he, 66 our bliss delay? Mine ELLA, why so cold? Those who but love from day to day, "The bounding arrow cleaves the sky, Nor leaves a trace behind; And single lives like arrows fly, -They vanish through the wind. "In Wedlock's sweet endearing lot Let us improve the scene, |