An Ode Sacred To The Birth Of The Marquis Of Tavistock.
Propitious Goddess of immortal song,
URANIA! from thy starry height descend;
As to thy care historic truths belong,
Inspire the measures, and the Muse befriend.
If virtue, and the weal of human-kind,
If kindred goodness thy protection claim;
Deign, pow'r benevolent, the wreath to bind,
Which duty brings to Russel's nascent name.
Charm'd with the hope new patriots still shall rise,
And with successive lustre gild Britannia's skies.
As o'er the blue expanse of golden light,
The orient sun ascending spreads her ray!
So BRITAIN pleas'd directs her smiling sight,
And views thy heir disclos'd to chearful day!
From the first dawn of thy distinguish'd name,
Observant, has she mark'd thy glorious race,
With faithful zeal, assert her antient fame;
Alike her ornaments in arms or peace:
Patriots and chiefs, who for her rights have stood,
And sanctify'd her laws, with their devoted blood!
Such was her RUSSEL, whose exalted mind
In virtue steel'd, by liberty inspir'd,
Glow'd with the gen'rous love of human-kind,
The point, to which his ev'ry thought aspir'd;
Not pleasure's sun-shine, nor ambition's crown,
Which charms the wanton, or deceives the weak;
Not instant death, nor the stern tyrant's frown,
The godlike martyr's steady soul could shake;
With fortitude he bore the friendly strife,
And smil'd for Britain's sake to yield his noble life!
Hail generous warmth! hail all-enliv'ning ray!
Which lawless force repels, and shines to save!
Hail emanation sprung from heav'nly day,
Fix'd in the bosom of the truly brave!
As thro' its lucid orb the radiant gem
Beams, self-supply'd, the blaze of living light:
So keeps unblemish'd honour its esteem;
So gains the judgment, while it charms the sight;
Which envy strives, but strives in vain to veil,
Too strong for all the clouds its brightness would conceal.
Early, illustrious peer, thy generous breast
This spark of worth hereditary caught;
Early thy love for freedom shone confess'd,
Seen in thy act, and rooted in thy thought;
Aw'd by no pow'r, no mean temptation sway'd,
Thy voice still follow'd truth's impartial side;
Scorn'd the vain blandishments ambition made,
A dignity beyond the reach of pride!
Merit intrinsical, outshining far
Th' embellishments of pomp, or tinsel of a star!
When to thy brow the ducal wreath was giv'n,
Applauding BRITAIN saw thy rising state;
Thy honours seem'd the care of fav'ring heav'n,
That for thy country smil'd to make thee great.
'Twas this to GOWER'S worth thy choice ally'd,
That bless'd thee with a British Portia's charms;
That gave thee JULIANA, spotless bride,
A treasur'd shrine of virtue to thy arms;
And now has crown'd your Union with an heir,
To long descending days, the lasting name to bear.
Nor placid thou, amidst the general joy,
Thy TAVISTOCK'S auspicious birth creates,
The Muse reject, who with delighted eye,
Beholds the future bliss thy heir awaits;
Soon (does she hope) with native ardour fir'd,
His conscious breast the patriot's fire shall know;
As the young eaglet rises self-inspir'd.
Lifts the strong plume, and leave the world below;
Plays in the solar flame, delights above,
And learns to grasp the bolts of formidable JOVE.
Illustrious youth, may heav'n to thee allow
A life secure from every wayward fate:
Propitious hear the faithful Muse's vow,
And make the circle of thy fame complete.
May every Muse with every grace conspire
Thy form to finish, and thy soul to raise,
Thy tender youth with virtue's love inspire;
Virtue! alone the Source of lasting praise;
A joy, which only noblest minds can know,
And truth's fair hand, alone, can authoriz'd below.
And once if aught the Muse prophetic feels;
If true the transport of her present flame,
The warmest hope thy worth but half reveals,
Illustrious infant! time shall swell thy fame!
Some happier Muse for thee shall tune the lyre,
Shall sing thy opening virtues fair express'd;
As now with recent joy, and fond desire,
Mine hails thee to thy natal hour confess'd,
And ardent wished to thy princely race
Establishment confirm'd, and durable Increase.
O honour'd BEDFORD! one directing fate
Allotts the Parts, whence life's distinction springs,
The ebb of poverty, the flow of state,
The chains of captives, and the crowns of kings!
To thy blest hand, and bounteousness of mind
Has giv'n extensive power's unslacken'd reign;
To me a barrenness of wish assign'd,
That grieves itself to see another's pain;
To thee has giv'n to smile, — to me to mourn,
Ev'n on that happy day thy Tavistock was born.
Yet let the Muse, my lord, with honest zeal,
The fair occasion of thy joy improve;
Thy noble line's increasing splendor hail,
And give this humble mark of duteous love:
Mean tho' her verse — by flatt'ry undefil'd;
Patriot's have not disdain'd to view her strain:
Stair has approv'd — and candid Tweddale smil'd,
And learned Stormont stoop'd to ease her pain!
Nor thou, mild Prince, disdain the humble lay
That mingles with the joys of this auspicious day.
So may just heav'n with ever-guardian care
Build on the basis of thy rising NAME!
To each successive BEDFORD grant an heir
Of worth resemblant, and paternal fame:
Like THEE, to guard Britannia's sacred laws
From dark corruption, and from lawless force;
To shine the great assertors of her cause,
Firm in the shock, and constant in the course:
Who round their brows the civic wreath shall bind,
And guard the glorious rights of BRITAIN and mankind
Albion's Triumph. An Ode.
Immortal Maid, fair Daughter of the Skies!
FREEDOM! thou dearest Blessing of Mankind!
For whom the Captive pines, — the Soldier dies,
And the bold Sailor braves the wintry Wind:
Britannia's Boast! — say Goddess wilt thou deign
Thy Warmth to animate the feeble Muse!
That on the ensanguin'd Banks of distant Maine
With an attentive Eye thy Footsteps views;
And make with joyful Admiration pleas'd
To long succeeding Time, thy deathless Trophies rais'd.
'Twas Heaven and you to GEORGE'S martial Breast
Imparted first the truly great Design,
States to relieve by Perfidy distress'd,
And chase Oppression from the Banks of Rhine.
For this thy Britons at their King's Command;
O'er Snows, thro' Forests urged their chearful Way;
Led by experienc'd STAIR'S conducting Hand,
Southward they march, and gain upon the Day:
Till lo! the Pride of GAUL with hostile Threat
Advancing, seem to warn — that BRITAIN must retreat.
Vain Menace! while new Life to British Hearts
Their Royal Sovereign's happy Presence gave;
New Spirits to the Camp his Smile imparts,
Inspires the timid, and confirms the brave:
Around their KING the faithful Army crowd,
With native Ardour every Bosom glows;
To Heav'n they raise their Acclamations loud,
And burn impatient to engage their Foes:
Eager to vindicate their Country's Fame
And shew that Britons still are worthy of the Name.
Mean Time confounded with the Shouts that rise,
Repeated by the ecchoing River's Shore,
'What means (Noailles demands) this empty Noise?
And is it thus the British Cannons roar?'
Too soon his trembling Spies the Answer bring
That dyes his haughty Cheek with sudden pale,
''Tis at his Camp arriv'd BRITANNIA'S King,
Hence the wild Tumult wafted on the Gale!
And Germans now an alter'd Aspect wear,
As if they joy'd to see — some new Deliverer near!'
Yes — yes GERMANIA may remind the Day,
She prostrate saw on Blenheim's glorious Plain;
Their mutual Foe to Marlboro' Vengeance pay,
For all the Woes she felt — a countless Train!
Nor less she hopes from British Valour now,
Then that the fair Event shall be the same,
That soon all Fears shall vanish from her Brow
And Peace once more diffuse her healing Beam:
Peace, which to violate no Pow'r shall dare,
Establish'd on the Base of Honorable War.
But different Cares the Gallic Chief oppress,
Pensive the dubious Chance of War he weigh'd,
Eastward he views advancing ill Success,
Northward the Storm is gathering round his Head.
He studies then to intercept the Foe,
Ere by the Troops auxiliar fully joyn'd,
At Britain aims the meditated Blow,
And vainly hopes an easy Prey to find:
With early Dawn his Forces pass the Maine,
And shine in rich Array — embattled on the Plain.
Quick the hoarse Drum proclaims the known Alarm;
Quick the shrill Trumpet speaks the Foe is near!
As quick, rejoyc'd, the valiant Britons arm,
And ready at their Leader's Call appear:
Fir'd at their Sov'reign's all enlivening Sight,
Th' auspicious Word of Victory they wait,
Resolv'd to prove in the approaching Fight,
That generous Courage dares the Shafts of Fate:
When Liberty and Justice warm the Brave,
Not arbitrary Pow'r the Tyrant's Head can save!
Now fierce Destruction waves her ruddy Brand,
With Havock to pollute the crimson'd Field;
The Gallic Squadrons rush on every Hand,
In vain they urge the British Ranks to yield;
Repuls'd, — impetuous they recharge again,
Again compell'd inglorious to retreat:
As the firm Rock deep rooted in the Main,
Resists the Waves that threaten round its Feet,
So, STAIR! thy pleas'd attentive Eye beheld
Thrice the proud Foe advance — as oft Shame repell'd.
But, Goddess, say, what British Warrior shines
Distinguish'd by his Motions from afar!
See, how he animates the steady Lines,
And seems the ruling Spirit of the War!
'Tis CLAYTON! — who for lov'd BRITANNIA'S Fame,
Devotes with Pleasure his Remains of Breath;
Too soon shall Fate suppress the Hero's Flame,
Too soon consign thee to the Arms of Death!
Yet midst her Joy — thy Country steals a Tear,
As if thy Loss had made her Conquest seem too dear!
Nor was thy Death less worthy than thy Life,
Nor ought of Boasting yielded to the Gaul;
The Britons urg'd with doubled Force the Strife,
Resolv'd to perish, or revenge thy Fall:
As when the Lyon wounded sees the Blood,
The generous Savage brindles up his Mane,
Issues majestic from his native Wood,
And with resistless Fury scow'rs the Plain;
So rous'd, the Britons now attack the Foe,
Nor fails to follow soon — their total Overthrow!
Yet for a while they shew'd a warlike Mien,
As willing to repair their late Disgrace;
'Till Campbell with his hardy Greys came in,
And taught them to retire with brisker Pace:
Yet here, alas! a second Loss we prov'd,
(Conquest, like Gold, must suffer some Allay)
Here fell the Youth — lamented and belov'd;
Here Honeywood beheld his last of Day!
Yet BRITAIN's rising Glory beam'd a Joy,
That sooth'd the deathfelt Pang, and made him pleas'd to die!
'Tis over now — fair Conquest sheds her Rays!
The flying Gauls with Speed the River gain;
Confusion reigns around — and wild Amaze,
And Death sits silent o'er the Heaps of Slain!
While Maine affrighted in his oozy Bed
The dying with the Dead in Crowds receives,
Hears the mix'd Tumult rolling o'er his Head,
And feels the purple Stream pollute his Waves:
Atoning Blood! — that from his verdant Shore
Shall drive the treacherous Gaul, to vex his Peace no more!
But how, blest Sov'reign! shall th' unpractic'd Muse
These recent Honours of thy Reign rehearse!
How to thy Virtues turn her dazzled Views,
Or consecrate thy Deeds in equal Verse!
Amidst the Field of Horrors wide display'd,
How paint the Calm that smil'd upon thy Brow!
Or speak that Thought which every Part survey'd,
'Directing where the Rage of War should glow':
While watchful Angels hover'd round thy Head,
And Victory on high the Palm of Glory spread.
Nor Royal YOUTH reject the artless Praise,
Which due to Worth like thine the Muse bestows,
Who with prophetic Extasy surveys
These early Wreaths of Fame adorn thy Brows.
Aspire like NASSAU in the glorious Strife,
Keep thy great SIRE'S Examples full in Eye;
But oh for BRITAIN'S Sake consult a Life,
The noblest Triumphs are too mean to buy:
And while you purchase Glory — bear in Mind,
A Prince's truest Fame, is to protect Mankind.
Alike in Arts and Arms acknowledg'd great,
Let STAIR accept the Lays he once could own!
Nor CARTERET, thou the Column of the State!
The Friend of Science! on the Labour frown!
Nor shall, unjust to foreign Worth, the Muse
In Silence Austria's valiant Chiefs conceal;
While AREMBERG'S heroic Line she views,
And NEIPERG'S Conduct strikes even Envy pale:
Names, Gallia yet shall further learn to fear,
And BRITAIN, grateful still, shall treasure up as dear!
Go busy Fame, to Augshourg's Towers convey,
The News of what BRITANNIA's King has done;
And thus to the Imperial Exile say,
'Are such the boasted Honours thou hast won?
Unhappy Prince — the Dupe of faithless Gaul,
What Sorrows have the fatal Union crown'd!
Thrice has devouring War consum'd thy All,
And Desolation spread thy Realms around!
Awake! — unseal thy Eyes! — nor still rely,
On a perfidious Pow'r — no Leagues could ever tye!'
Or if thou bend thy Flight to proud Versailles,
In Lewis's astonish'd Ear relate,
That before Britain's King retires Noailles,
Unwilling to sustain a Tallard's Fate!
Then bid the mighty Monarch timely yet
From Germany his shatter'd Legions call,
His visionary Schemes of Empire quit,
And leave in Quiet the distracted Ball:
E're George, victorious George, from distant Maine,
Chastis'd Ambition drive, behind the Banks of Seine.
And thou fair Queen adorn'd with every Charm,
That Reverence or Affection can inspire,
In whose Defence even savage Nations arm,
And force disarm'd Invasion to retire!
Unshaken Princess! while with graceful Pride
You smile, — as the proud Foe repell'd withdraws,
While Heav'n and BRITAIN combat on thy Side,
And BELGIA arms to aid thy righteous Cause:
A Cause! than which a juster never joyn'd
Nations ally'd in Arms — the Cause of human Kind!
But oh! acknowledg'd Victor in the Field,
What thanks, dread Sovereign, shall thy Toils reward!
Such Honours as deliver'd Nations yield,
Such for thy Virtues justly stand prepar'd:
When 'erst on Oudenarde's decisive Plain,
Before thy Youth, the Gaul defeated fled,
The Eye of Fate, foresaw on distant Maine,
The Laurels now that shine around thy Head:
Oh should entwin'd with these fresh Olives Bloom!
Thy Triumphs then would shame, the Pride of antient ROME.
Mean Time, while from this fair Event we view
That British Valour happily survives,
And cherish'd by the KING'S propitious View,
The rising Plant of Glory sweetly thrives!
Let all domestic Faction learn to cease,
Till humbled, Gaul no more the World alarms,
Till GEORGE procures to Europe solid Peace,
A Peace secur'd by his victorious Arms:
And binds in Iron Fetters to his Car,
Ambition, Rapine, Havock, and Despair,
With all the ghostly Fiends of desolating War.