Classic Poem

O thou! whoe'er thou art — Oh Bard divine!
May heav'nly pow'rs prolong the Poet's breath,
When noble Justice animates his line,
And rescues Virtue from the shades of Death!

For thee, oh C OOKE ! tho' fir'd by gen'rous zeal —
Ah why did savage climes employ thy care;
To find that death, a noble heart shall feel! —
To find the weapon of destruction there?

Ingratitude! — Thou keen corrosive pow'r!
To set the mind from gen'rous bondage free;
Whene'er thy hand appoints the bloody hour —
From Death the Hero shrinks not, but from Thee!

Yet — if that Spirit, in its glorious height,
From rig'rous Justice shall assert its due —
Behold! that Muse, which glows with all its light,
And gives thee Fame, shall give thee Vengeance too!