« 前へ次へ »
The violet, the pink, and jessamine,
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast
BOADICEA: AN ODE.
To have renew'd the joys that once were mine,
Boadicea : an Ode.
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Counsel of her country's gods;
Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
Full of rage and full of grief.
All the terrors of our tongues.
In the blood that she has spilt;
Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Tramples on a thousand states ;
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!
Heedless of a soldier's name;
Harmony the path to fame.
From the forests of our land,
Shall a wider world command.
Regions Cæsar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway;
None invincible as they."
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Of his sweet but awful lyre.
Felt them in her bosom glow,
Dying hurl'd them at the foe.
due Empire is on us bestow'd,
Shame and ruin wait for you.
Born A.D. 1754, died 1832.
The sea. Turn to the watery world !—but who to thee (A wonder yet unview'd) shall paint the Sea ? Various and vast, sublime in all its forms, When lull’d by zephyrs or when roused by storms; Its colours changing, when from clouds and sun Shades after shades upon the surface run; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene, In limpid blue and evanescent
green ; And oft the foggy banks and ocean lie, Lift the fair sail, and cheat th' experienced eye.
Be it the Summer-noon! A sandy space The ebbing tide has left upon its place;
Then just the hot and stony beach above,
Yet sometimes comes a ruffling cloud to make
View now the Winter-storm! above, one cloud, Black and unbroken, all the skies o'ershroud; Th' unwieldy porpoise through the day before Had rollid in view of boding men on shore ; And sometimes hid and sometimes shew'd his form, Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm.
All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam, The breaking billows cast the flying foam Upon the billows rising ;-all the deep Is restless change; the waves so swellid and steep, Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells, Not one, one moment in its station dwells; But nearer land you may the billows trace, As if contending in their watery chase; May watch the mightiest till the shoal they reach, Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch ; Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force, And then re-flowing, take their grating course, Raking the rounded flints, which ages past Roll’d by their rage, and shall to ages last.
Far off the petrel in the troubled way
High o'er the restless deep, above the reach
In shore their passage tribes of sea-gulls urge, And drop for prey within the sweeping surge ; Oft in the rough, opposing blast they fly Far back, then turn, and all their force apply, While to the storm they give their weak complaining
cry; Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast, And in the restless ocean dip for rest.
The Village School of former Days. Various our day-schools : here behold we one Empty and still, the morning duties done, Soil'd, tatter'd, worn, and thrown in various heaps, Appear their books, and there confusion sleeps; The workmen all are from the Babel fled, And lost their tools, till the return they dread : Meantime the master, with his wig awry, Prepares his books for business by and by : Now all th' insignia of the monarch laid Beside him rest, and none stand by afraid ; He, while his troop light-hearted leap and play, Is all intent on duties of the day; No more the tyrant stern or judge severe, He feels the father's and the husband's fear.
Ah! little think the timid trembling crowd, That one so wise, so powerful, and so proud, Should feel himself, and dread the humble ills Of rent-day charges and of coalman's bills;