ページの画像
PDF
ePub

But ah! too soon the imperfect efforts cease,
And fainting nations sleep, in death-like peace,
Not long :-Once more to vex the troubled times,
Flush'd with the triumph of successful crimes,
With rapine's ravening eagles wide unfurl'd,
Behold! the fell disturber of the world-
Scourge of the weak, and terror of the strong,
With unresisted legions pours along;

O'er trembling States to stretch his iron reign,
And wrest by force, what fraud has failed to gain.
Earth all his own-(so feigns his fabling pride!
Thrones of the North! be yet that boast belied!)
Earth all his own-in hope, he dares profane
With impious grasp, the sceptre of the main :
But England heard the vaunt, and Nelson made it vain.

NELSON Once more, (though, taught by him, we own,
The thanks, the triumph, due to Heav'n alone ;)
Once more the chosen instrument of good,
Fix'd on the waves, and 'stablish'd on the flood,
His country's rights;-but seal'd them with his blood.
A price his conquering Country griev'd to pay;
O dear-bought glories of Trafalgar's day.

Lamented Hero! when to Britain's shore,
Exulting fame those awful tidings bore,

Joy's bursting shout in whelining grief was drown'd,
And Victory's self unwilling audience found;

On every brow the cloud of sadness hung,
The sounds of triumph died on every tongue.

Not joy thus doubtful, sadness thus sincere,

Shall grace, erewhile, the Tyrant conqueror's bier ;
Whether, with undiscriminating sweep,
The scythe of war amid the mangled heap
Shall lay him low ;-or lone, corroding care,
Without one heart to pity or to share,

'Midst cheerless toils of solitary sway,

Shall waste his withering frame with slow decay;

Come when it will, from Heaven's all-righteous hand,

To save, or to avenge, each injured land;

Nations shall kneel to bless the welcome doom,

And France, unfetter'd, trample on his tomb.

But thee, loved Chief! what genuine griefs bemoan,
Fleets, cities, camps; the cottage, and the throne;
Round thy throng'd hearse those mingling sorrows flow,
And seek faint solace in a pomp of woe!

Yet not the vows thy weeping Country pays;
Not that high meed, thy mourning Sovereign's praise;
Not that the great, the beauteous, and the brave,
Bend, in mute reverence, o'er thy closing grave;
That with such grief as bathes a kindred bier,
Collective nations mourn a death so dear —

[merged small][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

i

Not these alone shall soothe thy sainted shade,
And consecrate the spot where thou art laid!
Not these alone; but, bursting through the gloom,
With radiant glory from thy trophied tomb,
The sacred splendor of thy deathless name
Shall grace and guard thy country's martial fame.

Far-seen shall blaze the unextinguish'd ray,
A mighty beacon, lighting glory's way!
With living lustre this proud land adorn,
And shine, and save, through ages yet unborn!
By that pure fire, before that hallow'd tomb,
Heroes and Chiefs in valour's opening bloom,
Frequent, in solemn pilgrimage shall stand,
And vow to prize, like Thee, their native land;
With pious ardour thy bright course pursue,
And bid thy blended virtues live anew ;-
Thy skill to plan, thy enterprize to dare ;
Thy might to strike, thy clemency to spare;-
That zeal, in which no thought of self had part,
But thy loved country filled up all thy heart;

That conscious worth, from pride, from meanness free,
And manners mild as guileless infancy;

The scorn of worldly wealth; the thirst of fame
Unquenchable; the blush of generous shame;
And bounty's genial flow, and friendship's holy flame!

And sure, if e'er the spirits of the Blest
Still fondly cherish, in the realms of rest,

Their human passions; thine are still the same ;-
Thy zeal for England's safety and her fame!
And when in after-times, with vain desire,

Her baffled foes in restless hate conspire

From her fair brow th' unfading wreath to tear,
Thy hand, and hands like thine, have planted there,
Thou, sacred shade! in battle hovering near,
Shall win bright Victory from her golden sphere,
To float aloft, where England's ensign flies,
With angel wings, and palms from Paradise!

Cease then the funeral strain !-lament no more,
Whom, ripe for fate, 'twere impious to deplore,
He died the death of glory!-Cease to mourn,
And cries of grief to songs of triumph turn;
Ah no! awhile, ere reason's voice o'erpow'rs
The fond regret that weeps a loss like ours;
Though thine own gallant spirit, wise as brave,
Begg'd of kind heaven the illustrious end it gave;
Though rival chiefs, while fondly they recal
Thy storied combats and thy glorious fall,
Count with just pride thy laurels as they bloom,
But envy less thy triumphs than thy tomb;
Yet, yet, awhile the natural tear may flow,
Nor cold reflection chide the chastening woe;
Awhile uncheck'd the tide of sorrow swell:
Thou bravest, gentlest Spirit! fare thee well!

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

I sit down to complete the little story of my misfortunes.

My mother had retired to the country, with a resolution to devote herself entirely to the education of her daughter. The improvement of her income afforded her the means of giving her those little accomplishments which are commonly thought to be a necessary part of female education. She considered, as her own life was precarious, and my sister might be left in a forlorn condition, in case of her death, that she ought to be qualified for the situation of a governess or companion; so that, if a favourable opportunity occurred, she might be placed in some respectable family, where she would be sheltered, if any thing happened to herself; the rapid decline of her health assuring her that these precautions were not to be delayed. Poor woman! she little thought she was thus laying a train of misery which was to involve the happiness of a beloved daughter, and her own fate.

My sister became all she wished,-all that her fondest hopes had conceived. She had a natural gracefulness of manners, which gave an interest to all her actions. She made herself mistress of music, dancing, and drawing, with very little assistance from instruction; an excellent taste directing her judgment to those refinements of the arts which are beyond the lessons of the master... The loveliness of her countenance and figure bespoke virtue and simplicity; and the sensibility of her disposition beamed upon her features whenever she spoke.

Such charms were not destined to remain concealed in a cottage. My mother, while she contemplated in silence the growing graces of her child with all the fondness of partiality, would often shudder involuntarily at the apprehension of those dangers to which beauty and innocence like her's might be exposed, when unveiled to the world,

J

At length a lady of fortune and connexion, who was anxious to prost vide a suitable instructor for her daughter, having received a most flat-xs tering account of my sister, desired to see her; and was so delighted at d the first interview, that she earnestly pressed my mother to part with t her, under the engagement of her constant protection and maternal a regard. She was a woman of great piety and benevolence; and to the 92 cautious inquiries of an anxious parent, every thing seemed to point out w her house as a most desirable asylum. The family lived entirely in the country, their old mansion house being situated in the most secludedon part of shire. The father of the family was equally distinguished to for his worth and talents, and was moreover a gentleman of very po-t lished education. My mother was prevailed on by all these advantages. to deprive herself of the only comfort of her solitude, in consideration of the future protection she hoped to secure to her daughter. Theat separation was most painful; but she was supported through it by that steady resolution which marked her character; while my poor sisters1 felt, in parting from her declining parent, that she was guilty of impiety in thus deserting her only friend, and nothing but her implicit obedience to her will could have reconciled her to the change.

Her mind, occupied with the education of her pupil, and with the improvement of her leisure hours, soon, however, acquired, tranquillity. Constant intercourse by letter, and sometimes a short and happy meeting with my mother, gradually reconciled her to her situation, and consoled her for the severe privation. She had resided upwards of a twelvemonth in her new situation, when one morning intelligence arrived that one of the sons of the family, an officer in the navy, had been severely wounded in action; and while they were yet anxious for his safety, he was brought home to them, still suffering from the effects of his wound.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

This must be an incident of interest to any one. The meeting was affecting, and, without any very romantic disposition, it is not surprising that my sister, being a witness of the scene, should be uncommonly interested on the occasion. Lieutenant was a young man of excellent disposition, and though he had been denied those advantages which a regular education confers, he was sufficiently well informed to have a high relish for polite conversation. He told the story of his accident with that sailor-like unaffected modesty which is sure to captivate attention; and as he was necessarily confined to the house for some time, he had a large share of my sister's conversation, as the other branches of the family, being grown up, did not reside with them.

17

[ocr errors]

Two such persons could not long associate with this unreserved fami- W liarity, without great risk that friendship would soon assume a more tender name; and it is inconceivable that Lady should not per- (a

ceive the danger, and provide against it in time. The young lieutenant had imbibed a strong disposition for religion, and was certainly more under the restraints of moral influence than many young men of his profession. But his passions were warm, and habits of indulgence had almost subdued his resolution.

My poor sister, simple, artless, and affectionate, unacquainted with

[ocr errors]

I

the world, and unprepared for those solicitations to which she was daily exposed, knew not the precipice on which she stood. It was long even before she knew she loved him; she was still unwilling to believe that the peculiar delight she felt in his society was dictated by any other sentiments than pity and esteem; and unfortunately for her, the abd sence of Sir→→→→, who was a man of penetration, and well knew the I world, deprived her of a protector who would have saved her from ruin.52 The history of seduction is the same nearly everywhere. I needed not tell, that, blinded by passion on the one side, and deluded by vows of eternal fidelity on the other, they yielded to the temptation of one fatal hour, and my unhappy sister became the victim of her own cres? dulity! 115,5gbg inil The bond of virtue once broken, the transgression of a moment was the commencement of a long criminal intercourse, which completelyło eluded the observation of Lady. At length the young officer was^2 recalled to his station at sea, and left her abruptly, unloas yobsta -mi to you «To think on what was past, and sigh alone.it quiteq se „slot It was now that conscience, which had slept amidst the tumult of I passion, spoke aloud to the bosom of my unfortunate sister. She looked back with unutterable anguish on the path of innocence from which she had fatally wandered. She called to memory the pure principles which her mother had so anxiously instilled into her mind, and dreaded to meet her fond endearments, which would reproach her with far greater severity than her displeasure. The secret of her disgrace could not long be concealed; and such was her condition that she trembled at the discovery which awaited her. Anxiety and wretchedness stole the bloom from her cheek. Her health was disordered;-she became unequal all exertion, and was obliged to relinquish any attempts to instruct her, ar to pupil, finding it impossible to fix her attention on any thing but her offence, or to withdraw her interest from that person who was still dearer than ever to her guilty remembrance.

[ocr errors]

farot

[ocr errors]

The change in her countenance and spirits was observed by the whole family; and though the servants justly attributed it to attachment to their young master, Lady still remained insensible to the cause, and often expressed her wonder at the unaccountable alteration. A faithful attendant, who had much at heart the welfare of the family, and was sincerely attached to my wretched sister, had long suspected the worst; and being at last fully confirmed in her suspicions, broke the affair to her mistress, from an earnest desire to prevent such consequences as might ensue from delay. Lady heard her with astonishment and concern; but being convinced at length, determined instantly to communicate the cruel tidings to my mother, before she opened the subject to the poor victim herself.

[merged small][ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

She received the intelligence with a shock which struck deeper on her heart than was apparent to her friend Lady She said very little; and after the first torrent of grief had subsided, earnestly desired that her daughter should be immediately brought back to her. Her Ladyship took my poor Fanny in the carriage, on the plea of an airing for her health; and it was not till they had arrived within a few miles

airingle

« 前へ次へ »