From deeds the Historian's records show,
Valour's renown, and Freedom's glow,
'Tis hence that springs the unconquered fire,
That bids to Glory's heights aspire.
O Gloster! hence the sage's aim,
The scholar's toil, the statesman's fame,
The flaming sword, still ready found
To guard the paradise around
Here in their last retreat are seen
The peaceful Arts, the classic Muse; And heavenly Wisdom, here her light screne, Her holy calm, can still diffuse.
No common cause, no vulgar sway,
Now Gloster, claim thy generous zeal,
In England's bliss is Europe's stay,
And England's hope in Granta's weal.
Thee have the marshalled hosts of France
Seen on their firmest ranks advance;
Thine was the soldier's fearless glow,
And thine the skill that watched around;
Shamed and repulsed the conscious foe
The laurel gave, 'tho' Fortune frowned:
And England heard, with loud acclaim,
The promise of thy youthful fame:
The modest virtues on thy steps attend,
To thee the sons of grief and pain
For pity turn, nor turn in vain;
The hapless African has called thee friend-
Oh ever thou the generous cause defend!
Pursue thy course!-an honest fame is thine-
And Granta still shall bless the day,
Granta that ever loved a Brunswick's name,
The honoured day, that saw her thus consign
To thee the ensigns of her sway;
Thee, guardian of her laws, her rights, her fame,
Son of her matron lore, Prince of her Monarch's line.
Addressed to the Queen of Prussia, on her Birth-Day.
WHILE titled suppliants throng the glittering scene
To hail the day that gave the world a Queen,
Will regal beauty deign to lend an ear,
Nor scorn a bard uncourtly and sincere?—
Who sees, undazzled, sceptered pomp displayed,
Yet bows to worth that shames all borrowed aid;
To worth that shines untarnished on a throne,
In fair LOUISA's bright example shown!
O, formed alike to grace the courtly scene,
Or smile the sweetest on the village-green,
To charm alike the heart, the eye, the car,
And claim the palm, though all around were fair;—
Amid the varied incense of the day,
Accept the tribute of an honest lay;
Nor deem the praise it bears, though warm it flows,
An eulogy that Flattery's breath bestows:-
For know, while such desert shall grace the theme,
That Praise for Truth is but another name.
RECITED IN THE THEATRE OXFORD, IN THE YEAR 1808.
SUBJECT proposed.-Mahomet's triumphant return to MeccaApostrophe to the Caaba-legends connected with it,―The Prophet's feelings on reviewing the cave of Hera-the poem now reverts to the first idea and developement of his imposture, of which that cave had been the scene-obstacles to his early suc cess-his courage under them-his flight from Mecca, and concealment in the cave of Thor-return to his present situation-he resolves to propagate his religion by the sword-bis address to his soldiers, including a description of the Mahometan paradise and hell-its effect upon them-the conquest of Arabia-Mahomet, tired of war, resigns himself to pleasure-the loveliness of marriage superior to the delights of the Haram-Mahomet's death-does not check the progress of his religion-the fall of Byzantium-the arms and doctrines of the Moslems overrun Palestine-Africa-India.-Conclusion.
Or him the Impostor, who, in Mecca's fane,
Reared the dark throne of Falsehood's impious reign;
Bade vanquished Faith confess his Prophet-nod,
And bathed in blood the altars of his God;
Of him my Song would tell nor ye the theme,
Nymphs of Castalia! scorn, by your fair stream
Though yet unheard; for not more vast his sway,
Who to Hydaspes urged his victor way;
From West to East his rapid thunders hurled,
And, still unsated, asked another world.
Hushed is the war, the torn and trampled slain.
Tell that the fight was fierce on Beder's plain;
The scene of Mahomet's first great battle,
While Faith's dark banner, as a gorgeous pall,
In awful triumph, waves from Mecca's wall.
And see! where, raised above Medina's bands,
High on the fane, the Impostor-Prophet stands;
The sword of Conquest slumbers in his sheath,
And twice two hundred Idols blaze beneath.
No more, with burnished casque and beamy lance,
In stern array, Mohammed's host advance;
In the mean Ibrahm* clad, with head and feet
All bare, and naked to the blistering heat,
Like lions tame, sedate in conscious pride,
The warrior pilgrims swell the gathering tide;
And, mid the loud-sung praise, or whispered vow,
In lowliest guise, before the Temple bow.
Illustrious Fane! from age to age ador'd
By despot chieftain, and by robber horde;
Pole-star of prayer! to thee, at early dawn,
Noon-tide, and eve, Faith's ardent eye is drawn,
And from each clime, where zeal for Islam burns,
Alike to thee, its hallowed centre, turns;
To thee Arabia's loveliest gems belong,
Her seven-stringed + Harp, her fairest flowers of song.
And sacred is thy dome; for legends feign,
Cloud-like, from Heaven it sank on Mecca's plain;
And here, 'tis fabled, Hagar's outcast child
Found peace and safety from the thirsty wild,
Drank of thy well, by Mercy's Angel led,
And pillowed on thy § stone his wearied head.
Here too Mohammed first, by power, by rage
Unawed, dared ope the Korau's mystic page;
The Ibrahm is the dress of the Pilgrims.
↑ Alluding to the seven Arabiau poems suspended in the Caaba, The sacred well, Zemzen.
A large black stone, usually styled, «The Stone of Abraham.”
And now, illustrious Fane, with heart elate,
As bends once more the Prophet at thy gate,
Medina's lord, high thoughts, though ill repressed,
Yet mocking utterance, burn within his breast.
But when by Eve's pale planet Hera's* cell,
Dear, cherished scene, where pensive musings dwell,
Lone he revisits, o'er his glowing soul
Far lovelier joys, far keener transports roll;
Fond Memory's touch recalls each faded hue,
And all the past comes rushing on his view.
For, in that cell, by that pale planet's light,
Oft had he watched, in youth, the sleepless night,
And there would sit in solemn thought, and brood
O'er his first woes, his orphan † solitude;
Would scan his high descent, his princely race,
And the long line from sainted Ishmael trace.
Then, how his soul would swell, his bosom beat,
How flushed his dark cheek with unwonted heat,
As Fancy, with Ambition's phrensy warmed,
Shapes dimly grand, and shadowy phantoms formed!
A new-born Faith, a Prophet's glorious name,
Conquest, and kingly Power, and deathless Fame
Obscurely mingled, like a feverish dream,
Or twilight landscape-but the sober beam
Of rising Reason chas'd each wildering shade,
And Fancy shrank from what herself had made.
But still the star of Eve, as darkness fell,
Saw the lone man in Hera's secret cell :
Still, with new fires, Ambition's phrensy burned,
Still Fancy's shadowy scene more strong returned,
* A cavern at a small distance from Mecca, to which the youthe ful Enthusiast nightly retired.
+ Mahomet was left an orphan at a very early age.
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