THE first part of this Poem describes a journey to the scene of war. The second is in an allegorical form; it exposes the gross material philosophy which has been the guiding principle of the French politicians, from Mirabeau to Buonaparte; and it states the opinions of those persons who lament the restoration of the Bourbons, because the hopes which they entertained from the French Revolution have not been realized and of those who see only evil, or blind chance, in the course of human events. To the Christian philosopher all things are consistent and clear. Our first parents brought with them the light of natural religion and the moral law; as men departed from these, they tended towards barbarous and savage life; large portions of the world are in this degenerated state; still, upon the great scale, the human race, from the beginning, has been progressive. But the direct object of Buonaparte was to establish a military despotism wherever his power extended ; and the immediate and inevitable consequence of such a system is to brutalize and degrade mankind. The contest in which this country was engaged against that Tyrant, was a struggle between good and evil principles, and never was there a victory so important to the best hopes of human nature as that which was won by British valour at Waterloo,.. its effects extending over the whole civilized world, and involying the vital interests of all mankind. That victory leaves England in security and peace. In no age and in no country has man ever existed under circumstances so favourable to the full developement of his moral and intellectual faculties, as in England at this time. The peace which she has won by the battle of Waterloo, leaves her at leisure to pursue the great objects and duties of bettering her own condition, and diffusing the blessings of civilization and Christianity. PROEM. J. ONCE more I see thee, Skiddaw! once again Alone thou standest, monarch of the scene... Once more, O Derwent, to thy aweful shores Drink in with eye and ear a fresh delight: 3. Twelve years, (how large a part of man's brief day!) Nor idly, nor ingloriously spent, Of evil and of good have held their way, Since first upon thy banks I pitch'd my tent. 4. Heaven hath with goodly increase blest me here, Where childless and opprest with grief I came; With voice of fervent thankfulness sincere Let me the blessings which are mine proclaim; Here I possess, . . what more should I require ? Books, children, leisure,.. all my heart's desire. struction and devastation which we had before our eyes, the little hope that appeared to any of us of escaping our menaced fate, so familiarized us with the idea of death, that a stoical serenity had taken possession of our minds: we had been kept in a state of fear till the sentiment of fear was lost. All our conversation bore the character of this disposition: it was reflective but not complaining; it was serious without being melancholy; and often presented novel and striking ideas. One day, when we were conversing on the inevitable chain of events, and the irrevocable order of things, on a sudden one of our party exclaimed that we owed all our misfortunes to Charles Martel. We thought him raving; but thus he reasoned to prove his hypothesis. Had not Charles Martel,' said he, 'conquered the Saracens, these latter, already masters of Guienne, of Saintonge, of Perigord, and of Poitou, would soon have extended their dominion over all France, and from that time we should have had no more religious quarrels, no more state disputes; we should not now have assemblies of the people, clubs, committees of public safety, sieges, imprisonments, bloody executions.' To this man the Turkish system of government appeared preferable to the revolutionary regime; and, all chances calculated, he preferred the bow-string of the Bashaw, rarely drawn, to the axe of the guillotine, incessantly at work." "It is uncertain what numbers were slain during the siege of Ostend, yet it is said that there was found in a commissary's pocket, who was slain before Ostend the 7th of August, before the yielding thereof, divers remarkable notes and observations, and among the rest what number died without in the archduke's camp, of every degree: Sometimes the storm, or passing foot lays bare Part of the harvest Death has gather'd there. 12. Peace be within thy walls, thou famous town, For thy brave bearing in those times of old; May plenty thy industrious children crown, And prosperous merchants day by day behold Many a rich vessel from the injurious sea, Enter the bosom of thy quite quay. 2 13. Embarking there, we glided on between Strait banks raised high above the level land, With many a cheerful dwelling white and green In goodly neighbourhood on either hand. Huge-timber'd bridges o'er the passage lay, Which wheel'd aside and gave us easy way. more ease, and were better victualled." — Grimestone's Hist. of the Netherlands, p. 1317. "The besieged in Ostend had certain adventuring soldiers whom they called Lopers, of the which, among other captains, were the young captain Grenu, and captain Adam Van Leest. Their arms which they bore were a long and great pike, with a flat head at the neather end thereof, to the end that it should not sink too deep into the mud, a harquebuse hung in a scarf, as we have said of Frebuters, a coutelas at his side, and his dagger about his neck, who would usually leap over a ditch four and twenty foot broad, skirmishing often with his enemy, so as no horseman could overtake them before they had leapt over the ditches againe."— Ibid. 1299. "In remembrance of the long siege of Ostend, and the winning of Sluce, there were certaine counters made in the United Provinces, both of silver and copper, the one having on the one side the picture of Ostend, and on the other the towns of Rhinberg, Grave, Sluice, Ardenbourg, and the forts of Isendyke and Cadsant, with this inscription round about: 'Plus triennio obsessa, hosti rudera, patriæ quatuor ex me urbes dedi. Anno 1604.' Ostend being more than three years besieged, gave the enemie a heap of stones, and to her native country four townes. "The town of Utrecht did also make a triumphant piece of coyne both of gold and silver, where on the one side stood the siege of Ostend, and on the other the siege of Sluce, and all the forts and havens, and on both sides round about was graven, ⚫ Jehovah prius dederat plus quam perdidimus.'' Ibid. 1318. 2 These lines are borrowed from Quarles: .. the passage in which they occur would be very pleasing if he had not disfigured it in a most extraordinary manner. "Saile gentle Pinnace! now the heavens are clear, And quite thee fairly of the injurious Sea." Quarle's Argalus and Parthenia. 14. Four horses, aided by the favouring breeze, Drew our gay vessel, slow and sleek and large; Crack goes the whip, the steersman at his ease Directs the way, and steady went the barge. Ere evening closed to Bruges 1 thus we came,.. Fair city, worthy of her ancient fame. 15. The season of her splendour is gone by, Yet every where its monuments remain ; Temples which rear their stately heads on high, Canals that intersect the fertile plain, 21. My lot hath lain in scenes sublime and rude, In boyhood was I wont, with rapture fraught, 22. In Cintra also have I dwelt erewhile, That earthly Eden, and have seen at eve Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall One pinnacle sole seen, whereon it stood 16. Time hath not wrong'd her, nor hath Ruin sought 17. But for the scars in that unhappy rage Is hers, in venerable years array'd; 18. When I may read of tilts in days of old, And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown, Fair dames, grave citizens, and warriors bold, If Fancy would pourtray some stately town, Which for such pomp fit theatre should be, Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee. 19. Nor did thy landscape yield me less delight, 20. No happier landscape may on earth be seen, 1 " Urbs est ad miraculum pulchra, potens, amona," says Luigi Guicciardini. Its power is gone by, but its beauty is perhaps more impressive now than in the days of its splendour and prosperity. M. Paquet Syphorien, and many writers after him, mention the preservation of the monuments of Charles the Bold, and his daughter Mary of Burgundy, wife to the Archduke Maximilian; but they do not mention the name of the Beadle who preserved them at the imminent risque of his own life. Pierre Like the Ark on Ararat, above the flood. 23. And now am I a Cumbrian mountaineer; Their wintry garment of unsullied snow 24. Yet hath the Flemish scene a charm for me A natural beauty springs from perfect art, 25. Two nights have pass'd; the morning opens well, Soon yon sweet chimes the appointed hour will tell, 26. Beside the busy wharf the Trekschuit rides, And passengers and porters throng the way, 27. All disregardant of the Babel sound, A swan kept oaring near with upraised eye,.. The bounty of such casual company; Dezitter is this person's name. During the revolutionary frenzy, when the mob seemed to take most pleasure in destroying whatever was most venerable, he took these splendid tombs to pieces and buried them during the night, for which he was proscribed, and a reward of 2000 francs set upon his head. Buonaparte, after his marriage into the Austrian family, rewarded him with 1000 francs, and gave 10,000 for ornamenting the chapel in which the tombs were replaced. This has been done with little taste. |