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The dead to life return;
Our fathers' spirits rise ! My brethren! in your breasts they burn,
They sparkle in your eyes.
Now launch upon the foe
The lightning of your rage !
The Titans of the age.
They yield,—they break,--they fly;
The victory is won : Pursue !--they faint,--they fall,--they die:
Oh, stay the work is done.
Spirit of Vengeance ! rest :
Sweet Mercy cries, “Forbear !” She clasps the vanquished to her breast;
Thou wilt not pierce them there?
-Thus vanish Britain's foes
From her consuming eye;
Who conquer--those who die !
O'ershadowing laurels deck
The living hero's brows;
His children and his spouse !
Exulting o'er his lot,
The dangers he has braved,
Which his own valour saved.
Daughters of Albion ! weep;
On this triumphant plain,
For you and freedom slain.
Oh, gently close the eye
That loved to look on you ;
With knots of sweetest flowers
Their winding-sheet perfume ; And wash their wounds with true love showers,
And dress them for the tomb.
For beautiful in death
The Warrior's corse appears, Embalmed by fond Affection's breath,
And bathed in Woman's tears.
Give me the death of those
Who for their country die ;
When cold and low they lie!
Their loveliest mother Earth
Enshrines the fallen brave,
They find their tranquil grave.
HEAVEN speed the righteous sword,
Germania from afar
On, to the combat, on!
On, to the combat, on!
O Liberty! thy form
WRITTEN AT SCARBOROUGH, IN THE SUMMER OF 1805.
ALL hail to the ruins,* the rocks and the shores !
Thou wide-rolling Ocean, all hail!
Now dark with the fresh-blowing gale,
And the silver-winged sea-fowl on high,
Like meteors bespangle the sky,
From the tumult and smoke of the city set free,
With eager and awful delight,
I gaze and am changed at the sight;
My soul, like the sun, with a glance
Embraces the boundless expanse, And moves on thy waters, wherever they roll, From the day-darting zone to the night-shadowed pole.
My spirit descends where the dayspring is born,
Where the billows are rubies on fire,
Are sweet as the Phænix's pyre:
O gardens of Eden! in vain
Placed far on the fathomless main,
* Scarborough Castle.
But now the fair rivers of Paradise wind
Through countries and kingdoms o'erthrown;
Where he reigns,-and will soon reign alone;
He stretches his hundredfold arms,
Despoiling, destroying its charms;
Thus the pestilent Upas, the demon of trees,
Its boughs o'er the wilderness spreads,
Its mildewing influence sheds;
Are slain by its venomous breath,
That darkens the noonday with death,
Ah! why hath JEHOVAH, in forming the world,
With the waters divided the land,
And cradled the deep in His hand,
mmand, And leap o'er the bounds of his birth
To ravage the uttermost earth,
There are, gloomy Ocean! a brotherless clan,
Who traverse thy banishing waves, The poor disinherited outcasts of man,
Whom avarice coins into slaves !
Love, friendship, and conjugal bliss,
Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath,
And makes their destruction its sport!
And waft them in safety to port!
Where Europe exultingly drains
The life-blood from Africa's veins;
The hour is approaching,-a terrible hour!
And Vengeance is bending her bow;
And the rock-rending whirlwinds blow :
The floods return headlong,—they sweep
The slave-cultured lands to the deep;
Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted isles,
More lovely than clouds in the west,
Sinks softly and sweetly to rest?
At the voice of Thy Gospel of peace
May the sorrows of Africa cease;
As homeward my weary-winged fancy extends
Her star-lighted course through the skies,
And turns upon Europe her eyes ;
I see the war-tempested flood
All foaming and panting with blood;
For Britannia is wielding her trident to-day,
Consuming her foes in her ire,
From her wave-ruling chariots of fire.
To spread her invincible name;
The universe rings with her fame; * Alluding to the glorious success of the Moravian missionaries among the Negroes in the West Indies.