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POETRY

ODE for the New YEAR, 1807.
By HENRY JAMES Pyr., Esq. Poët-Laureat.

I.

When high the billowy mountains rise,
And headlong 'gainst the rocky shore,

: Driven by the blast, the giddy vessel Alies ;
Unguidel, by the wild waves borne,
Her rudder broke, her tackling torne,
Say, does the seaman's daring mind
Shrink from the angry frown of fate ?
Does he, to abject fear resign'd,
Th' impending stroke in silence wait?
No—while he pours the fervent prayer
To Him whose will can punish or can spare,
Cool and intrepid 'mid the sound
Of winds and waves that rage around,
The powers that skill and strength impart,

The nervous arm, th' undaunted heart,
Collecting ---firm he fronts the threat'ning storm,
And braves, with fearless breast, fell Death's terrific form:

II.
So, though around our sea-encircled reign,

The dreadful tempest seem to lower,
Dismay'd do Britain's hardy train

Await in doubt the threat’ning hour?
Lo! to his sons, with cheering voice,
Albion's bold Geniis calls aloud :
Around him valiant myriads crowd,
Or death or victory their choice ;
From ev'ry port astonish'd Europe sees
Britannia’s white sails swelling with the breeze;
Not her imperial barks alone

Awe

Awe the proad foe on ev'ry side,
Commerce der vereels bescbes on the tide,
A:ber onzant scs awduje
Scording from 13 wyloi toi!,
Tum for the arts of Peace their care,

Hurl :7:13 ezch deck the bo.ts of war,
To snerp th' injury's basesters from the exis,
Wlo dare to cucumscribe Birmania's Baial regz.

UIT.
And see with empuiatre peal
Oor bois coogenal ardous fiel;
The ardent spirit, that of vore

Flam'd high on Galiza's sarquista sbore ;
Or burn'd by Danube's distant to,
When fou'd his currect ting'd with Garlic blood;
Or sbone on Linceles' laier fight :
Or fir'd by Acre's tou’rs the Coristian Koight;
Or taught on Marita's fitids the Gaui to feel,
Crg'd by the Britsb's art, the British steel;
Now in each breast with beat redoubled slows,
Ard gleams dismay and death on Europe's ruthless foes.

IV.
Xot to Ambition's specious charm,

Not to tb' ensanguit'd Despot's band,
Is conquest boucd-a mightier Arn

Than Earth's prond tyrants can withstand,
The balance bolds of buman fate,
Raises the low and sinks the great;

Exerting then in Europe's cause

Each energy of arm and mind,
All that from force or skill the warrior draws,

Yet to th' Almighty power resign'd,
Whose high behest all Nature's movements guides,

Controls the battle's and the ocean's tides;
Britain still hopes that Heav'n her vous will hear,
While Mercy rears ber shield, and Justice points her spear.

ODE for his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 1807. By Hendy JAMES PYE, Esq. Poet-Laureat.

I.
TILL does the trumpet's brazen throat

Pour forih a inartial sound,
Sull do the notes of battle foat

In warlike clangour round;

ST

Nor

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Awe the proud foe on ev'ry side,
Commerce hier vessels launches on the tide,
And her indignant sons awhile
Seceding from their wonted toil,
Turn from the arts of Peace their care,

Hurl from each deck the bolts of war,
To sweep th' injurious boasters from the main,
Who dare to circumscribe Britannia's naval reign.

III.

And see with emulative zeal
Our hosts congenial ardour feel;
The ardent spirit, that of yore

Flam'd high on Gallia's vanquish'd shore ;
Or burn’d by Danube's distant flood,
When flow'd bis current ting’d with Gallic blood;
Or shone on Lincelles' later fight :
Or fir’d by Acre's tow'rs the Christian Knight;
Or taught on Maida's fields the Gaul to feel,

Urg'd by the Briton's arm, the British steel ;
Now in each breast with heat redoubled glows,
And gleams dismay and death on Europe's ruthless foes.

IV.
Not to Ambition's specious charm,

Not to th' ensanguin'd Despot's hand,
Is conquest bound-a mightier Arm

Than Earth's proud tyrants can withstand,
The balance holds of human fate,
Raises the low and sinks the great;

Exerting then in Europe's cause

Each energy of arm and mind,
All that from force or skill the warrior draws,

Yet to th' Almighty power resign'd,
Whose high behest all Nature's movements guides,

Controls the battle's and the ocean's tides;
Britain still hopes that Heav'n her wows will hear,
While Mercy rears her shield

[graphic]

ODE for his M By HENRY J

Nor rural pipe, nor past'ral lay,
In peaceful descant hail the day

To grateful Britain ever dear;
The thunder of embattled plains,
Avd shouting Conquest's choral strains ;

Burst on the listening ear.

II.
Yet, while Bellona’s iron car

Whirls o'er th' ensanguin'd plains, 'Mid Hyperborean climes afar

Stern War terrific reigns;
While, with colossal power endow'd,
The ruthless minister of blood

Calls to his scatter'd naval host,
Go forth, and bid the bolts of fate
On Britain's trembling harbours wait,

Shut Commerce from her coast;

III.
Behold, the sovereign Queen of Isles,

The Empress of the Waves,
Meeting the vaunt with scornful smiles,

The empty menace braves ;
And see, on Plata's sea-broad stream
Her banners wave, her bright arms gleam;

While ploughing seas of classic fame,
Nile yields once more to Albion's powers,
And Alexandria vails her towers

To George's mightier name.

IV.
Firm are the sons that Britain leads

To combat on the main,
And firm the hardy race that treads

In steady march the plain :
And proudly may her Bards record
The victor arm, the victor sword,

That drives the foe from Ocean's tide;
And loudly too, with fond acclaim,
Chaunt trophied Maida's deathless fame,

With military pride.

V.
Be hush'd awhile each ruder sound,

While Britain's grateful voice
Bids all her echoing vales resound

The Monarch of her choice.

Though

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