ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED.

TO THE MARCH IN SCIPIO.

TOLL for the brave!

The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,

Had made the vessel heel,
And laid her on her side.

A land breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset ;
Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought;
His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle;

No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak

She ran upon no rock.

;

His sword was in its sheath;

His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down

With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the vessel up,

Once dreaded by our foes!

And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are sound,

And she may float again

Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main.

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;

And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the wave no more.

Sept. 1782.

IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEORGIUS

REGALE NOMEN INDITUM.

PLANGIMUS fortes. Periêre fortes,

Patrium propter periêre littus

Bis quatèr centum; subitò sub alto
Æquore mersi.

Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat,

Malus ad summas trepidabat undas,
Cùm levis, funes quatiens, ad imum
Depulit aura.

Plangimus fortes. Nimis, heu, caducam
Fortibus vitem voluêre parcæ,

Nec sinunt ultrà tibi nos recentes
Nectere laurus,

Magne, qui nomen, licèt incanorum,
Traditum ex multis atavis tulisti !
At tuos olim memorabit ævum
Omne triumphos.

Non hyems illos furibunda mersit,
Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes,
Fissa non rimis abies, nec atrox
Abstulit ensis.

Navitæ sed tum nimium jocosi
Voce fallebant hilari laborem,
Et quiescebat, calamoque dextram im-
pleverat heros.

Vos, quibus cordi est grave opus piumque,
Humidum ex alto spolium levate,
Et putrescentes sub aquis amicos.
Reddite amicis !

Hi quidem (sic dîs placuit) fuêre:
Sed ratis, nondùm putris, ire possit
Rursùs in bellum, Britonumque nomen
Tollere ad astra.

SONG. ON PEACE.

WRITTEN IN THE SUMMER OF 1783, AT THE REQUEST

OF LADY AUSTEN, WHO GAVE THE SENTIMENT.

AIR-" MY FOND SHEPHERDS OF LATE."

No longer I follow a sound;

No longer a dream I pursue:
O happiness! not to be found,
Unattainable treasure, adieu!

I have sought thee in splendour and dress,
In the regions of pleasure and taste;
I have sought thee, and seem'd to possess,
But have proved thee a vision at last.
An humble ambition and hope

The voice of true wisdom inspires; "Tis sufficient, if peace be the scope, And the summit of all our desires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind

That seeks it in meekness and love;

But rapture and bliss are confined

To the glorified spirits above.

SONG.

ALSO WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF LADY AUSTEN.

AIR-" THE LASS OF PATTIE'S MILL."

WHEN all within is peace

How nature seems to smile!

Delights that never cease

The livelong day beguile.

From morn to dewy eve

With open hand she showers
Fresh blessings, to deceive

And soothe the silent hours.

It is content of heart

Gives nature power to please;
The mind that feels no smart
Enlivens all it sees;

Can make a wintry sky

Seem bright as smiling May,

And evening's closing eye
As peep of early day.

The vast majestic globe,
So beauteously array'd
In nature's various robe,

With wondrous skill display'd,

Is to a mourner's heart

A dreary wild at best;

It flutters to depart,

And longs to be at rest.

VERSES SELECTED FROM AN OCCASIONAL
POEM ENTITLED VALEDICTION.

On Friendship! cordial of the human breast!
So little felt, so fervently profess d!
Thy blossoms deck our unsuspecting years;
The promise of delicious fruit appears :