On the Successes of his Majesty 's Arms, and the Greatness of the E NGLISH N ATION ; 1762
I.
Hail sacred muse! thou harbinger of fame,
To Britain's glory sound the lofty rhime;
A pleasing task her greatness to proclaim,
And stamp her honours on the page of time.
II.
For sure, the praises of her warlike train,
To the harmonious deathless lyre belong;
For them, sweet C LIO , raise the rapt'rous strain,
And the rich tide of music pour along.
III.
As when the monarchs of the bestial race,
Triumphant, rove the sterile Lybian sand;
The tyger fierce, and lordly pard they chase,
Nor dare the trembling flocks their rage withstand;
IV.
Or, as the sovereigns of the briny flood,
From shore to shore, imperial, cleave their way;
Before them fly the fearful finny brood,
And all confess their wide-extended sway;
V.
So when Britannia lifts her glitt'ring spear,
Her ensigns blazing o'er th' embattl'd field;
Heart-struck with awe, and chill'd with instant fear,
Her foes inglorious fly, or trembling yield.
VI.
Or if some B LAKE her navies, vengeful, lead
O'er the wide bosom of the surging wave;
At her red flag, her en'mies, fill'd with dread,
Shrink to their ports, or find a wat'ry grave.
VII.
Not Carthage old, for opulence renown'd,
Nor Tyre , long noted for her purple dye;
Nor aught that in th' historic page is found,
With Britain's isle in wealth and strength can vie.
VIII.
Her's is fair C OMMERCE to earth's distant end,
Whether rich India yields her spicy store,
Or Persian looms their silken beauties blend,
Or mines Peruvian give the glitt'ring ore.
IX.
True to her ports, her num'rous vessels bear
The costly freight from each prolific soil;
Soft Persia's silks, and India's spice, we share,
And gold Peruvian gain without the toil.
X.
Well doth Britannia the fair path pursue,
Which ancient Rome with glory trod before;
Abroad, each haughty tyrant to subdue,
At home, t'encrease each happy subject's store.
XI.
Won by the valour of her martial bands,
Lo! this new world boasts her auspicious name;
Scant are the tracts the lordly Gaul commands,
And lessen'd proud Iberia's ample claim.
XII.
Thro' yon fair isles that grace the western main,
Like gems bespangling Neptune's azure vest,
Or stars that deck the blue etherial plain,
The feats of British heroes are confest.
XIII.
Struck with the thought, I feel unusual fire,
When M ARTINICO is the glorious theme — —
Heroic deeds heroic songs inspire,
And fill the bard with all the warrior's flame.
XIV.
See the brave youths, as breathes the trump of war,
Tremendous, rushing on the armed foe;
With mingled shouts they wield the deadly spear,
And o'er the field the crimson torrents flow.
XV.
Th' intrepid chiefs their fiery steeds impel,
Where glows the fury of the battle dire,
Where shrill-voic'd clamour lifts her stunning yell,
And ghastly terror rolls his eyes of fire.
XVI.
Th' astonish'd foes, as M ONCKTON 's bands advance,
Fly to the hills, or shrink to dreary caves;
O'er them black horror shakes his iron lance,
And desolation her dread banner waves.
XVII.
So when the princely eagles sail the sky,
If aught of meaner fowl oppose their flight,
Soon hurled headlong from the realms on high,
Vanquish'd, they seek to hide their heads in night.
XVIII.
Nor stop we yet the current of our verse,
Still other heroes claim our rapt'rous lays;
Brave A LBEMARLE 's exploits, O muse! rehearse,
And wast, to distant times, his well-earn'd praise.
XIX.
Let youths unborn say how th' Iberian fled,
Before th' British chieftan's conqu'ring host;
How, o'er the field, Havannah 's pride was spread,
And Moro 's ramparts levell'd with the dust.
XX.
Nor blush, O muse! thy chaplet to bestow
On him who led th' unhappy sons of Spain;
Be virtue honour'd, or in friend or foe,
Or in Britannia's, or Iberia's, train.
XXI.
Thus fought Rome's champion, Africanus bold,
And thus the dauntless Hannibal withstood;
Till Latian Ardor, Punic rage, control'd,
And drench'd the fields with Carthaginian blood.
XXII.
Thus shine the acts of G EORGE 's glorious day,
Illustrious Prince, with early honours crown'd;
Ordain'd by heav'n a matchless race to sway,
In arms victorious, as in arts renown'd!
XXIII.
Give way ye wonders of an ancient date!
Enough have liv'd old Cressy and Poitiers;
Henry and Edward long have shone in state,
And Alfred's name subdu'd a waste of years.
XXIV.
These once o'er Europe spread their glories wide —
But now new worlds our Monarch's sceptre own,
And tho' the deep his distant realms divide,
In ev'ry subject's heart is fix'd his throne.
XXV.
Happy this Tract of rich productive soil
(No more the dwelling of a savage race)
Where golden harvests crown the peasant's toil,
And cheerful plenty gladdens ev'ry face.
XXVI.
But happier still, if war's sad scenes were o'er,
And widows ceas'd mourn their husbands slain;
When Peace spread her reign from shore to shore,
And orphans for their sires no more complain.
XXVII.
Then might the Muses (sweet celestial Maids!)
In this fair land vouchsafe to fix their seat;
Nor leaving Thespiae's ever-pleasing shades,
Would the harmonious Sisters then regret.
XXVIII.
Much boots it us to court their sacred lore,
To gen'rous deeds to animate the soul,
The sage instruction o'er the mind to pour,
And all the giddy passions to control;
XXIX.
To brand proud Folly, and bold Vice to shame,
To teach that Wealth is but a transient joy,
To shew that Honour is the road to fame,
And Virtue is true bliss, without alloy.
XXX.
Such are the maxims which the sacred Nine
Delight to warble o'er the deathless lyre;
Such are the garlands they delight to twine;
Then hither haste ye soul-exalting Choir — —
I.
Hail sacred muse! thou harbinger of fame,
To Britain's glory sound the lofty rhime;
A pleasing task her greatness to proclaim,
And stamp her honours on the page of time.
II.
For sure, the praises of her warlike train,
To the harmonious deathless lyre belong;
For them, sweet C LIO , raise the rapt'rous strain,
And the rich tide of music pour along.
III.
As when the monarchs of the bestial race,
Triumphant, rove the sterile Lybian sand;
The tyger fierce, and lordly pard they chase,
Nor dare the trembling flocks their rage withstand;
IV.
Or, as the sovereigns of the briny flood,
From shore to shore, imperial, cleave their way;
Before them fly the fearful finny brood,
And all confess their wide-extended sway;
V.
So when Britannia lifts her glitt'ring spear,
Her ensigns blazing o'er th' embattl'd field;
Heart-struck with awe, and chill'd with instant fear,
Her foes inglorious fly, or trembling yield.
VI.
Or if some B LAKE her navies, vengeful, lead
O'er the wide bosom of the surging wave;
At her red flag, her en'mies, fill'd with dread,
Shrink to their ports, or find a wat'ry grave.
VII.
Not Carthage old, for opulence renown'd,
Nor Tyre , long noted for her purple dye;
Nor aught that in th' historic page is found,
With Britain's isle in wealth and strength can vie.
VIII.
Her's is fair C OMMERCE to earth's distant end,
Whether rich India yields her spicy store,
Or Persian looms their silken beauties blend,
Or mines Peruvian give the glitt'ring ore.
IX.
True to her ports, her num'rous vessels bear
The costly freight from each prolific soil;
Soft Persia's silks, and India's spice, we share,
And gold Peruvian gain without the toil.
X.
Well doth Britannia the fair path pursue,
Which ancient Rome with glory trod before;
Abroad, each haughty tyrant to subdue,
At home, t'encrease each happy subject's store.
XI.
Won by the valour of her martial bands,
Lo! this new world boasts her auspicious name;
Scant are the tracts the lordly Gaul commands,
And lessen'd proud Iberia's ample claim.
XII.
Thro' yon fair isles that grace the western main,
Like gems bespangling Neptune's azure vest,
Or stars that deck the blue etherial plain,
The feats of British heroes are confest.
XIII.
Struck with the thought, I feel unusual fire,
When M ARTINICO is the glorious theme — —
Heroic deeds heroic songs inspire,
And fill the bard with all the warrior's flame.
XIV.
See the brave youths, as breathes the trump of war,
Tremendous, rushing on the armed foe;
With mingled shouts they wield the deadly spear,
And o'er the field the crimson torrents flow.
XV.
Th' intrepid chiefs their fiery steeds impel,
Where glows the fury of the battle dire,
Where shrill-voic'd clamour lifts her stunning yell,
And ghastly terror rolls his eyes of fire.
XVI.
Th' astonish'd foes, as M ONCKTON 's bands advance,
Fly to the hills, or shrink to dreary caves;
O'er them black horror shakes his iron lance,
And desolation her dread banner waves.
XVII.
So when the princely eagles sail the sky,
If aught of meaner fowl oppose their flight,
Soon hurled headlong from the realms on high,
Vanquish'd, they seek to hide their heads in night.
XVIII.
Nor stop we yet the current of our verse,
Still other heroes claim our rapt'rous lays;
Brave A LBEMARLE 's exploits, O muse! rehearse,
And wast, to distant times, his well-earn'd praise.
XIX.
Let youths unborn say how th' Iberian fled,
Before th' British chieftan's conqu'ring host;
How, o'er the field, Havannah 's pride was spread,
And Moro 's ramparts levell'd with the dust.
XX.
Nor blush, O muse! thy chaplet to bestow
On him who led th' unhappy sons of Spain;
Be virtue honour'd, or in friend or foe,
Or in Britannia's, or Iberia's, train.
XXI.
Thus fought Rome's champion, Africanus bold,
And thus the dauntless Hannibal withstood;
Till Latian Ardor, Punic rage, control'd,
And drench'd the fields with Carthaginian blood.
XXII.
Thus shine the acts of G EORGE 's glorious day,
Illustrious Prince, with early honours crown'd;
Ordain'd by heav'n a matchless race to sway,
In arms victorious, as in arts renown'd!
XXIII.
Give way ye wonders of an ancient date!
Enough have liv'd old Cressy and Poitiers;
Henry and Edward long have shone in state,
And Alfred's name subdu'd a waste of years.
XXIV.
These once o'er Europe spread their glories wide —
But now new worlds our Monarch's sceptre own,
And tho' the deep his distant realms divide,
In ev'ry subject's heart is fix'd his throne.
XXV.
Happy this Tract of rich productive soil
(No more the dwelling of a savage race)
Where golden harvests crown the peasant's toil,
And cheerful plenty gladdens ev'ry face.
XXVI.
But happier still, if war's sad scenes were o'er,
And widows ceas'd mourn their husbands slain;
When Peace spread her reign from shore to shore,
And orphans for their sires no more complain.
XXVII.
Then might the Muses (sweet celestial Maids!)
In this fair land vouchsafe to fix their seat;
Nor leaving Thespiae's ever-pleasing shades,
Would the harmonious Sisters then regret.
XXVIII.
Much boots it us to court their sacred lore,
To gen'rous deeds to animate the soul,
The sage instruction o'er the mind to pour,
And all the giddy passions to control;
XXIX.
To brand proud Folly, and bold Vice to shame,
To teach that Wealth is but a transient joy,
To shew that Honour is the road to fame,
And Virtue is true bliss, without alloy.
XXX.
Such are the maxims which the sacred Nine
Delight to warble o'er the deathless lyre;
Such are the garlands they delight to twine;
Then hither haste ye soul-exalting Choir — —