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-charg'd 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 waves no more.
THE GENEALOGY OF CHRIST,
As it is represented on the East Window of Win-. chester College Chapel.
At once to raise our rev'rence and delight,
To elevate the mind, and please the sight,
To pour in virtue at th' attentive eye.
And waft the soul on wings of ecstacy;
For this the painter's art with nature vies,
And bids the visionary saint arise:
Who views the sacred forms in thought aspires,
Catches pure zeal, and, as he gazes, fires;
Feels the same ardour to his breast convey'd ;
Is what he sees, and emulates the shade.
Thy strokes, great artist, so sublime appear, They check our pleasure with an awful fear; While thro' the mortal line the God you trace, Author himself and heir of Jesse's race,
In raptures we a mire thy bold design,
And, as the subject, own the hand divine.
While thro' thy work the rising day shall stream,
So long shall last thine honour, praise, and name.
And may thy labours to the muse impart
Some emanation from her sister art,
To animate the verse, and bid it shine
In colours easy, bright, and strong as thine!
Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While softest slumbers seem to seal his eyes;
The hoary sire Heaven's guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel stands.
The form august and large, the mien divine,
Betray the founder of Messiah's line*.
Lo! from his loins the promis'd stem ascend,
And high to Heaven its sacred boughs extend:
Each limb productive of some hero springs,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.
Th' eternal plant wide spreads its arms around,
And with the mighty branch the mystic top is
And lo! the glories of th' illustrious line
At their first dawn with ripen'd splendours shine,
In David all express'd; the good, the great,
The king, the hero, and the man complete.
Serene he sits, and sweeps the golden lyre,
And blends the prophet's with the poet's fire.
See! with what art he strikes the vocal strings,
The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings!
Hark- -or our ears delude us-from his tongue
Sweet flows, or seems to flow, some heavenly song.
Oh could thine heart arrest the fleeting sound,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound;
Could the warm sun, as erst when Memnon play'd,
Wake with his rising beam the vocal shade;
Then night he draw the attentive angels down,
Bending to hear the lay, so sweet, so like their
On either side the monarch's offspring shine,
And some adorn, and some disgrace their line.
Here Ammon glories; proud incestuous lord!
This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty strides he
tow'rs,
And on his horrid brow defiance low'rs.
There Absalom the ravish'd sceptre sways,
And his stolen honour all his shame displays:
The base usurper youth! who joins in one
The rebel subject and th' ungrateful son.
Amid the royal race, see Nathan stand:
Fervent he seems to speak, and lift his hand;
His looks the emotion of his soul disclose,
And eloquence from ev'ry gesture flows.
Such, and so stern he came, ordain'd to bring
The ungrateful mandate to the guilty king:
When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden smart
Shot thro' the trembling monarch's conscious
heart,
From his own lips condemn'd; severe decree! Had his God prov'd so stern a judge as He, But man with frailty is allied by birth; Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth : Thro' all the soul tho' virtue holds the rein, Beats at the heart, and springs in ev'ry vein, Yet ever from the clearest source have ran Some gross alloy, some tincture of the man. But who is he deep musing? in his mind, He seems to weigh in reason's scale mankind;
Fix'd contemplation holds his steady eyes→→→
I know the sage*, the wisest of the wise.
Blest with all man could wish, or prince obtain,
Yet his great heart pronounc'd those blessings vain.
And lo! bright glittering in his sacred hands,
In miniature the glorious temple stands.
Effulgent frame! stupendous to behold!
Gold the strong valves, the roof of burnish'd gold.
The wand'ring ark, in that bright dome enshrin'd,
Spreads the strong light, eternal, unconfin'd!
Above the unutterable glory plays,
Presence divine! and the full-streaming rays
Pour thro' reluctant clouds intolerable blaze.
But stern oppression rends Reboam's reign;
See the gay prince, injurious, proud, and vain!
Th' imperial sceptre totters in his hand,
And proud rebellion triumphs in the land.
Curs'd with corruption's ever-fruitful spring,
A beardless senate and a haughty king.
There Asa, good and great, the sceptre bears,
Justice attends his peace, success his wars:
While virtue was his sword and Heaven his shield
Without controul the warrior swept the field;
Loaded with spoils, triumphant he return'd,
And half her swarthy sons sad Ethiopia mourn'd.
But since thy flagging piety decay'd,
And barter'd God's defence for human aid;
See their fair laurels wither on thy brow,
Nor herbs nor healthful arts avail thee now,
Nor is Heav'n chang'd, apostate prince, but thou.
*Solomon.
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