Classic Poem

Ye Powers who rule the boundless deep,
Whose dread commands the winds obey,
To roll the waters on a heap,
Or smooth the liquid way,
Propitious hear Britannia's pray'r;
Britannia's hope is now your care,
Whom oft to yonder distant shore
Your hospitable billows bore,
When Europe in distress implor'd
Relief from his victorious sword;
Who, when the mighty work was done,
Tyrants repell'd and battles won,
On your glad waves, proud of the glorious load,
Through these your watry realms in yearly triumph rode.
To winds and seas, distress'd, he flies,
From storms at land, and faction's spite:
Though the more fickle crowd denies,
The winds, the seas, shall do his virtue right.
Be hush'd, ye winds! be still, ye seas!
Ye billows! sleep at ease,
And in your rocky caverns rest;
Let all be calm as the great hero's breast.
Here no unruly passions reign,
Nor servile fear nor proud disdain,
Each wilder lust is banish'd hence.
Where gentle love presides, and mild benevolence.
Here no gloomy cares arise;
Conscious honour still supplies
Friendly hope and peace of mind,
Such as dying martyrs find:
Serene within, no guilt he knows,
While all his wrongs sit heavy on his foes.

Say, Muse! what hero shall I sing,
What great example bring,
To parallel this mighty wrong,
And with his graceful woes adorn my song?
Shall brave Themistocies appear
Before the haughty Persian's throne?
While conquer'd chiefs confess their fear,
And shatter'd fleets his triumphs own;
In admiration fix'd the monarch stood,
With secret joy his glorious prize he view'd,
Of more intrinsic worth than provinces subdued:
Or faithful Aristides, sent,
For being just, to banishment;
He writ the rigid sentence down,
He pitied the misguided clown:
Or him who, when brib'd orators misled
The factious tribes, to hostile Sparta fled?
The vile ingrateful crowd
Proclaim'd their impious joy aloud,
But soon the fools discover'd to their cost
Athens in Alcibiades was lost.
Or, if a Roman name delight thee more,
The great dictator's fate deplore,
Camillus, against noisy faction bold,
In victories and triumphs old.
Ungrateful Rome!
Punish'd by Heaven's avenging doom,
Soon shall thy ardent vows invite him home,
The mighty chieftain soon recal,
To prop the falling Capitol,
And save his country from the perjur'd Gaul.
Search, Muse! the dark records of time,
And every shameful story trace,
Black with injustice and disgrace,
When glorious merit was a crime;
Yet these, all these, but faintly can express
Folly without excuse, and madness in excess.

The noblest object that our eyes can bless
Is the brave man triumphant in distress;
Above the reach of partial Fate,
Above the vulgar's praise or hate,
Whom no feign'd smiles can raise, no real frowns depress.
View him, ye Britons! on the naked shore,
Resolv'd to trust your faithless vows no more,
That mighty man! who for ten glorious years
Surpass'd our hopes, prevented all our pray'rs.
A name in every clime renown'd,
By nations bless'd, by monarchs crown'd.
In solemn jubilees our days we spent,
Our hearts exulting in each grand event,
Factions applaud the man they hate,
And with regret to pay their painful homage wait.
Have I not seen this crowded shore
With multitudes all cover'd o'er?
While hills and groves their joy proclaim,
And echoing rocks return his name.
Attentive on the lovely form they gaze;
He with a cheerful smile,
Glad to revisit this his parent isle,
Flies from their incense, and escapes their praise.
Yes, Britons! view him still unmov'd,
Unchang'd, though less belov'd.
His generous soul no deep resentment fires,
But, blushing for his country's crimes, the kind good man retires.
Ev'n now he fights for this devoted isle,
And labours to preserve his native soil;
Diverts the vengeance which just Heav'n prepares;
Accus'd, disarm'd, protects us with his pray'rs.
Obdurate hearts! cannot such merit move?
The hero's valour nor the patriot's love?
Fly, goddess! fly this inauspicious place;
Spurn at the vile degenerate race,
Attend the glorious exile, and proclaim
In other climes his lasting fame,
Where honest hearts, unknowing to forget
The blessings from his arms receiv'd,
Confess with joy the mighty debt,
Their altars rescued, and their gods reliev'd.

Nor sails the hero to a clime unknown,
Cities preserv'd their great deliverer own;
Impatient crowds about him press,
And with sincere devotion bless.
Those plains, of ten years' war the bloody stage,
(Where panting nations struggled to be free,
And life exchang'd for liberty)
Retain the marks of stern Bellona's rage.
The doubtful hind mistakes the field
His fruitless toil so lately till'd:
Here deep intrenchments sunk, and vales appear.
The vain retreats of Gallic fear;
There new-created hills deform the plain,
Big with the carnage of the slain:
These monuments, when faction's spite
Has spit its poisonous foam in vain,
To endless ages shall proclaim
The matchless warrior's might;
The graves of slaughter'd foes shall do his valour right.
These when the curious traveller
Amaz'd shall view, and with attentive care
Trace the sad footsteps of destructive war,
Successive bards shall tell
How Marlborough fought, how gasping tyrants fell.
Alternate chiefs confess'd the victor's fame,
Pleas'd and excus'd in their successor's shame.
In every change, in every form,
The Proteus felt his conquering arm:
Convinc'd of weakness, in extreme despair,
They lurk'd behind their lines, and wag'd a lazy war:
Nor lines nor forts could calm the soldier's fear,
Surpris'd, he found a Marlb'rough there.
Nature nor art his eager rage withstood,
He measur'd distant plains, he forc'd the rapid flood;
He fought, he conquer'd, he pursued.
In years advanc'd, with youthful vigour warm'd,
The work of ages in a day perform'd.
When kindly gleams dissolve the winter-snows
From Alpine hills, with such impetuous haste
The icy torrent flows,
In vain the rocks oppose,
It drives along enlarg'd, and lays the regions waste.
Stop, goddess! thy presumptuous flight,
Nor soar to such a dangerous height;
Raise not the ghost of his departed fame,
To pierce our conscious souls with guilty shame;
But tune thy harp to humbler lays,
Nor meditate offensive praise.