ODE XLII.

PERFORMED

AT ST. JAMES's

ON THE FOURTH OF JUNE, 1776, BY HIS MAJESTY'S BAND OF MUSICIANS.

BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, ESQ.

[ POET LAUREAT. ]

Ye western gales, whose genial breath
Unbinds the glebe, 'till all beneath

One verdant livery weårs;
You sooth the sultry heats of noon,
Add softness to the setting sun,

And dry the morning's tears.

This is your season, lovely gales,
Thro' Æther now your power prevails ;
And our dilated breasts shall own
The joys, which flow from

you

alone.

Why, therefore, in

yon

dubious sky, With out-spread wing, and eager eye

On distant scenes intent, Vol. XVII.

D

“ Sits Expectation in the air."Why do alternate hope and fear

Suspend some great event?

Can Britain fail ?-the thought were vain ; The powerful empress of the main But strives to smooth th' unruly flood, * And dreads a conquest stain'd with blood.

a

While yet, ye winds, your breezy balm Thro’ nature spreads a general calm, While yet a pause fell Discord knows; Catch th' soft moment of repose,

Your genuine powers exert; To pity melt th' obdurate mind, Teach ev'ry bosom to be kind,

And humanize the heart!

Propitious gales, O wing your way!
And whilst we hail that rightful sway

Whence temper'd Freedom springs;
The bliss we feel to future times
Extend, and from

native climes Bring peace upon your wings!

ODE XLIII.

TO THE

NAVAL OFFICERS OF GREAT BRITAIN.

WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE TRIAL OF ADMIRAL

KEPPEL, FEBRUARY THE ELEVENTH, 1779.

BY WILLIAM MASON, M. A.

Hence to thy Hell! thou fiend accurst,

Of sin's incestuous brood the worst, Whom to pale Death the spectre bore :

Detraction hence! 'tis Truth's command, . She launches, from her seraph hand, The shaft that strikes thee to. th’ infernal shore.

Old ENGLAND's Genius leads her on

To vindicate his darling son, Whose fair, and veteran fame

Thy venom’d tongue had dar'd defile;

The Goddess comes, and all the isle
Feels the warm influence of her heav'nly flame.

But chief in those, their country's pride,

Ordain'd, with steady helm, to guide . The floating bulwarks of her reign,

It glows, with unremitting ray,

Bright as the orb that gives the day. Corruption spreads her murky mist in vain :

To Virtue, Valour, Glory true,
They keep their radiant prize in view,

Ambitious sterling aim;
They know that titles, stars, and strings,

Bestow'd by Kings on slaves of Kings,
Are light as air, when weigh'd with honest fame.

Hireling courtiers, venal peers, ,

View them with fastidious frown;
Yet the Muse's smile is theirs,

Theirs her amaranthine crown.
Yes, gallant train, on your unsullied brows,

She sees the genuine English spirit shine,
Warm from a lieart where ancient honour glows,
That scorns to bend the knee at Int'rest's shrine.

Lo! at your Poet's call,
To give prophetic fervor to his strain,
Forth from the mighty bosom of the main

A giant deity ascends;
Down his broad breast his hoary honours fall!

He wields the trident of th’ Atlantic vast;

An awful calm around his pomp is cast, O'er many a league the glassy sleep extends. He speaks; and distant thunder, murmuring round, In long-drawn volley rolls a symphony profound.

" Ye thunders cease! the voice of Heav'n
“Enough proclaims the terrors giv'n

“ To me the Spirit of the deep;

“ Tempests are mine ; from shore to shore,

“ I bid my billows when to roar, “ Mine the wild whirlwind's desolating sweep.

" But meek and placable, I come

“ To deprecate Britannia's doom, 6. And snatch her from her fate;

« Ev’n from herself I mean to save

“ My sister sov’reign of the wave ; 66 A voice immortal never warns too late.

“ Queen of the isles! with empire crown'd,

“ Only to spread fair Freedom round, 66 Wide as my waves could waft thy name;

“ Why did thy cold reluctant heart

" Refuse that blessing to impart, " Deaf to great Nature's universal claim ?

“ Why rush, through my indignant tide,
“ To stain thy hands with parricide ?

Ah, answer not the strain !
“ Thy wasted wealth, thy widows’ sighs,

“ Thy half-repentant embassys “ Bespeak thy cause unblest, thy councils vain.

“ Sister, sov'reign of the wave!

“ Turn from this ill-omen'd war;“ Turn to where the truly brave

“ Will not blush thy wrath to bear :