Classic Poem

AS ONG .

Design'd for the Fourth Act, but not Set.

I.

See , Britons , see with Awful Eyes,
Britannia from her Seas arise!
Ten Thousand Billows round Me roar,
While Winds and Waves engage,
That break in Froth upon my Shoar,
And impotently Rage.
Such were the Terrors, which of late
Surrounded my afflicted State;
United Fury thus was bent
On my Devoted Seats,
'Till all the Mighty Force was spent
In Feeble Swells, and Empty Threats.

II.

But now with rising Glory Crown'd,
My Joys run high, they know no Bound;
Tides of unruly Pleasure flow
Through ev'ry Swelling Vein;
New Raptures in my Bosom glow,
And warm me up to Youth again.
Passing Pomps my Streets Adorn;
Captive Spoils, in Triumph born,
Standards of Gauls , in Fight subdu'd,
Colours in Hostile Blood embru'd,
Ensigns of Tyrannic Might,
Foes to Equity and Right,
In Courts of British Justice wave on high,
Sacred to Law, and Liberty.
My Crowded Theatres repeat,
In Songs of Triumph, the Defeat.
Did ever Joyful Mother see
So Bright, so Brave a Progeny!
Daughters with so much Beauty Crown'd,
Or Sons for Valour so renown'd!

III.

But oh I gaze, and seek in vain
To find amidst this Warlike Train
My Absent Sons, that us'd to Grace
With decent Pride this Joyous Place:
Unhappy Youths! how do my Sorrows rise,
Swell my Breast, and melt my Eyes,
While I your mighty Loss deplore?
Wild, and raging with Distress,
I mourn, I mourn my own Success,
And boast my Victories no more.
Unhappy Youths! far from their native Sky,
On Danube's Banks enterr'd they lye.
Germania , give me back my Slain,
Give me my slaughter'd Sons again.
Was it for this they rang'd so far,
To free thee from oppressive War?
Germania, & c .

IV.

Tears of Sorrow which I shed
O'er the Manes of my Dead,
Lasting Altars let me raise
To my living Heroes Praise;
Heav'n give them a longer Stay
As Glorious Actions to Display,
Or perish on as Great a Day.