ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1781.
By WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, Efq. Poet Laureat,
SK round the world, from age to age,
Not where alone th' hiftorian's page
Or poet's fong have juft attention won,
But even the feebleft voice of fame
Has learnt to lifp Britannia's name,
Afk of her inborn worth, and deeds of high renown,
What power from Lufitania broke
The haughty Spaniard's galling yoke?
Who bade the Belgian mounds with freedom ring?
Who fixt fo oft, with ftrength fupreme,
Unbalanc'd Europe's nodding beam,
And rais'd the Auftrian eagle's drooping wings?
'Twas Britain! Britain heard the nations groan,
As jealous of their freedom as her own.
Where'er her valiant troops fhe led,
Check'd, and abafh'd, and taught to fear,
The earth's proud tyrants, stopp'd their mad career;
To Britain Gallia bow'd; from Britain Julius fled.
Why then when round her fair protectress' brow
The dark clouds gather, and the tempests blow,
With folded arms, at eafe reclin'd,
Does Europe fit? or, more unkind,
Why fraudulently aid th' infidious plan?
The foes of Britain are the foes of man.
Alas! her glory foars too high,
Her radiant Star of Liberty
Has bid too long th' astonish'd nations
That glory which they once admir'd,
That glory in their caufe acquir'd,
That glory burns too bright, they cannot bear the blaze!
Then, Britons, by experience wife,
Court not an envious or a timid friend;
Firm in thyfelf undaunted rife,
On thy own arm, and righteous Heaven depend.
So, as in great Eliza's days,
On felf-fupported pinions borne,
Again fhalt thou look down with fcorn
On an oppofing world, and all its wily ways;
Grown greater from diftrefs,
And eager ftill to bless,
As truely generous as thou'rt truely brave,
Again fhalt crush the proud, again the conquer'd fave.
ELPHIN'S CONSOLATION, an Ode of TALIESIN.
Tranflated by a Lady.
Taliefin, when an infant, was found expofed on the water, wrapped in a leathern bag, in a wear which han been granted to Elphin, fon of Gwyddno, for his fupport. The young prince, reduced by his exravagance, burst into tears, at finding, as he imagined, fo unprofitable a booty. However, he took pity on the infant, and caufed proper care to be taken of him. After this, Elphin profpered; and Taliefin, when he grew up, wrote the following moral Ode, fuppofed to have been addreffed to the prince by the infant bard, on the night in which he was found.
[From Mr. PENNANT'S JOURNEY to SNOWDON.]
LPHIN! fair as roseate morn,
Ceafe, O lovely youth! to mourn;
Mortals never should prefume
To difpute their Maker's doom.
Feeble race! too blind to fcan
What th'Almighty deigns for man ;
Humble hope be ftill thy guide,
Steady faith thy only pride,
Then defpair will fade away,
Like demons at th'approach of day,
Cunllo's prayers acceptance gain,
Goodness never fues in vain ;
He, who form'd the sky is juft,
In him alone, O Elphin! truft.
See glift'ning fpoils in fhoals appear,
Fate fmiles this hour on Gwyddno's wear,
Elphin fair! the clouds difpell
That on thy lovely vifage dwell;
Wipe, ah! wipe the pearly tear,
Nor let thy manly bofom fear;
What good can melancholy give?
'Tis bondage in her train to live.
Pungent forrows doubts proclaim,
Ill fuits thofe doubts a Christian's name;
Thy great Creator's wonders trace,
His love divine to mortal race,
Then doubt, and fear, and pain will fly,
And hope beam radiant in the eye.
Behold me leaft of human kind,
Yet heav'n illumes my foaring mind.
Lo! from the yawning deep I came,
Friend to thy lineage and thy fame,
To point thee out the paths of truth,
To guard from hidden rocks thy youth;
From feas, from mountains, far and wide,
God will the good and virtuous guide.
Elphin fair! with virtue bleft,
Let not that virtue idly reft;
If rous'd, t'will yield thee fure relief,
And banish far unmanly grief:
Think on that pow'r, whofe arm can save,
Who e'en can fnatch thee from the grave;
He bade my harp for thee be ftrung,
Prophetic lays he taught my tongue.
Though like a flender reed I grow,
Tofs'd by the billows to and fro',
Yet ftill, by him infpir'd, my fong
The weak can raife, confound the strong:
Am not I better, Elphin, fay,
Than thousands of thy fcaly prey?
Elphin! fair as rofeat morn,
Ceafe, O lovely youth to mourn.
Weak on my leathern couch I lie,
Yet heav'nly lore I can defery;
Gifts divine my tongue infpire,
My bofom glows celeftial fire;
Mark! how it mounts! my lips difclofe
The certain fate of Elphin's foes.
Fix thy hopes on him alone,
Who is th'eternal Three in One;
There thy ardent vows be given,
Prayer acceptance meets from Heaven;
Then thou shalt adverfe fate defy,
And Elphin glorious live and die.
[From the SCOTTISH TRAGIC BALLADS.]
ALOW, my babe, lye ftill and fleip
If thou'It be filent I'll be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart full fad;
Balow my boy, thy mither's joy ;
Thy father breids me great annoy.
When he began to feik my luve,
And wi hie fucred words to muve;
His feigning faufe, and flattering cheir,
To me that time did nocht appeir;
But now I fee that cruel he
Cares neither for my babe nor me.
Lye ftill, my darling, fleip a while,
And whan thou wakeft fweitly smile;
But fmile nae as thy father did
To cozen maids: nay, God forbid,
What yet I feir, that thou fold leir
Thy father's heart and face to bier;
Be ftill, my fad one: fpare thofe teirs,
To weip whan thou haft wit and yeirs;
Thy griefs are gathering to a fum,
God grant thee patience when they cum;
Born to sustain a mother's fhame,
A father's fall, a baftard's name.
The first CHANSON a BOIRE, or DRINKING BALLAD of any Merit in our Language, and which appeared in the Year 1551.
[From the third Volume of Mr. WARTON's History of English Poetry.]
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