FEELINGS OF A FRENCH ROYALIST,
ON THE DISINTERMENT OF THE REMAINS OF THE DUKE
DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould Uprisen to lodge among ancestral kings; And to inflict shame's salutary stings On the remorseless hearts of men grown old In a blind worship; men perversely bold Even to this hour,-yet, some shall now forsake Their monstrous Idol if the dead e'er spake, To warn the living; if truth were ever told By aught redeemed out of the hollow grave: O murdered Prince! meek, loyal, pious, brave! The power of retribution once was given: But 'tis a rueful thought that willow bands So often tie the thunder-wielding hands Of Justice sent to earth from highest Heaven!
OCCASIONED BY THE BATTLE OF WATERLO0. (The last six lines intended for an Inscription.) FEBRUARY, 1816.
INTREPID Sons of Albion! not by you
Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earth Ne'er saw a race who held, by right of birth, So many objects to which love is due :
Ye slight not life-to God and Nature true; But death, becoming death, is dearer far, When duty bids you bleed in open war: Hence hath your prowess quelled that impious crew. Heroes!-for instant sacrifice prepared; Yet filled with ardour and on triumph bent 'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident-
To you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared To guard the fallen, and consummate the event, Your Country rears this sacred Monument !
THE Bard-whose soul is meek as dawning day, Yet trained to judgments righteously severe, Fervid, yet conversànt with holy fear, As recognising one Almighty sway: He-whose experienced eye can pierce the array Of past events; to whom, in vision clear, The aspiring heads of future things appear, Like mountain-tops whose mists have rolled away- Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time +, He only, if such breathe, in strains devout Shall comprehend this victory sublime; Shall worthily rehearse the hideous rout, The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime Angels might welcome with a choral shout!
EMPERORS and Kings, how oft have temples rung With impious thanksgiving, the Almighty's scorn! How oft above their altars have been hung Trophies that led the good and wise to mourn Triumphant wrong, battle of battle born, And sorrow that to fruitless sorrow clung! Now, from Heaven-sanctioned victory, Peace is
In this firm hour Salvation lifts her horn. Glory to arms! But, conscious that the nerve Of popular reason, long mistrusted, freed Your thrones, ye Powers, from duty fear to swerve! Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed Reviving, heavier chastisement deserve Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed.
Stooped to the Victory, on that Belgic field, Achieved, this closing deed magnificent,
And with the embrace was satisfied. -Fly, ministers of Fame,
With every help that ye from earth and heaven may claim!
Bear through the world these tidings of delight! -Hours, Days, and Months, have borne them in
Of mortals, hurrying like a sudden shower That land-ward stretches from the sea, The morning's splendours to devour; But this swift travel scorns the company
Of irksome change, or threats from saddening
—The shock is given the Adversaries bleed— Lo, Justice triumphs! Earth is freed! Joyful annunciation!-it went forthIt pierced the caverns of the sluggish NorthIt found no barrier on the ridge Of Andes frozen gulphs became its bridgeThe vast Pacific gladdens with the freightUpon the Lakes of Asia 'tis bestowedThe Arabian desart shapes a willing road
Across her burning breast,
For this refreshing incense from the West!- -Where snakes and lions breed, Where towns and cities thick as stars appear, Wherever fruits are gathered, and where'er The upturned soil receives the hopeful seed-- While the Sun rules, and cross the shades of night- The unwearied arrow hath pursued its flight! The eyes of good men thankfully give heed,
And in its sparkling progress read
of virtue crowned with glory's deathless meed : Tyrants exult to hear of kingdoms won,
And slaves are pleased to learn that mighty feats
Even the proud Realm, from whose distracted borders
This messenger of good was launched in air, France, humbled France, amid her wild disorders, Feels, and hereafter shall the truth declare, That she too lacks not reason to rejoice,
And utter England's name with sadly-plausive voice.
O genuine glory, pure renown!
And well might it beseem that mighty Town Into whose bosom earth's best treasures flow, To whom all persecuted men retreat; If a new Temple lift her votive brow High on the shore of silver Thames to greet
But if the valiant of this land
In reverential modesty demand,
That all observance, due to them, be paid Where their serene progenitors are laid; Kings, warriors, high-souled poets, saint-like sages, England's illustrious sons of long, long ages; Be it not unordained that solemn rites, Within the circuit of those Gothic walls, Shall be performed at pregnant intervals; Commemoration holy that unites
The living generations with the dead; By the deep soul-moving sense
Of religious eloquence,— By visual pomp, and by the tie Of sweet and threatening harmony; Soft notes, awful as the omen Of destructive tempests coming, And escaping from that sadness Into elevated gladness;
While the white-rob'd choir attendant, Under mouldering banners pendant, Provoke all potent symphonies to raise
Songs of victory and praise,
For them who bravely stood unhurt, or bled With medicable wounds, or found their graves Upon the battle field, or under ocean's waves; Or were conducted home in single state, And long procession-there to lie, Where their sons' sons, and all posterity, Unheard by them, their deeds shall celebrate!
Nor will the God of peace and love Such martial service disapprove. He guides the Pestilence-the cloud Of locusts travels on his breath;
The region that in hope was ploughed His drought consumes, his mildew taints with death; He springs the hushed Volcano's mine, He puts the Earthquake on her still design, Darkens the sun, hath bade the forest sink, And, drinking towns and cities, still can drink Cities and towns-'tis Thou-the work is Thine!-- The fierce Tornado sleeps within thy courts- He hears the word-he flies- And navies perish in their ports;
For Thou art angry with thine enemies!
For these, and mourning for our errors, And sins, that point their terrors, We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud And magnify thy name, Almighty God!
But Man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent;
Thou cloth'st the wicked in their dazzling mail, And for thy righteous purpose they prevail;
Thine arm from peril guards the coasts Of them who in thy laws delight:
Thy presence turns the scale of doubtful fight, Tremendous God of battles, Lord of Hosts!
Father and Judge of all, with fervent tongue But in a gentler strain
Of contemplation, by no sense of wrong, (Too quick and keen) incited to disdain Of pity pleading from the heart in vain- TO THEE TO THEE
Just God of christianised Humanity Shall praises be poured forth, and thanks ascend, That thou hast brought our warfare to an end, And that we need no second victory! Blest, above measure blest,
If on thy love our Land her hopes shall rest, And all the Nations labour to fulfil
'Mid the deep quiet of this morning hour, All nature seems to hear me while I speak, By feelings urged that do not vainly seek Apt language, ready as the tuneful notes That stream in blithe succession from the throats Of birds, in leafy bower,
Thy law, and live henceforth in peace, in pure Warbling a farewell to a vernal shower. good will.
THE MORNING OF THE DAY APPOINTED FOR A GENERAL THANKSGIVING. JANUARY 18, 1816.
HAIL, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night! Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude On hearts howe'er insensible or rude; Whether thy punctual visitations smite The haughty towers where monarchs dwell; Or thou, impartial Sun, with presence bright Cheer'st the low threshold of the peasant's cell! Not unrejoiced I see thee climb the sky In naked splendour, clear from mist or haze, Or cloud approaching to divert the rays, Which even in deepest winter testify Thy power and majesty,
Dazzling the vision that presumes to gaze. -Well does thine aspect usher in this Day;
-There is a radiant though a short-lived flame, That burns for Poets in the dawning east ; And oft my soul hath kindled at the same,
When the captivity of sleep had ceased;
But He who fixed immoveably the frame Of the round world, and built, by laws as strong, A solid refuge for distress-
The towers of righteousness;
He knows that from a holier altar came
The quickening spark of this day's sacrifice; Knows that the source is nobler whence doth rise The current of this matin song;
Of morning dew upon the untrodden meads, Shall live enrolled above the starry spheres. He, who in concert with an earthly string Of Britain's acts would sing,
He with enraptured voice will tell Of One whose spirit no reverse could quell; Of One that mid the failing never failed— Who paints how Britain struggled and prevailed Shall represent her labouring with an eye
Of circumspect humanity;
Shall show her clothed with strength and skill, All martial duties to fulfil;
Firm as a rock in stationary fight; In motion rapid as the lightning's gleam; Fierce as a flood-gate bursting at mid night To rouse the wicked from their giddy dream— Woe, woe to all that face her in the field! Appalled she may not be, and cannot yield.
And thus is missed the sole true glory That can belong to human story! At which they only shall arrive
Who through the abyss of weakness dive. The very humblest are too proud of heart; And one brief day is rightly set apart For Him who lifteth up and layeth low; For that Almighty God to whom we owe,
Say not that we have vanquished-but that we survive.
A crouching purpose-a distracted will— Opposed to hopes that battened upon scorn, And to desires whose ever-waxing horn Not all the light of earthly power could fill; Opposed to dark, deep plots of patient skill, And to celerities of lawless force; Which, spurning God, had flung away remorseWhat could they gain but shadows of redress? -So bad proceeded propagating worse; And discipline was passion's dire excess. Widens the fatal web, its lines extend, And deadlier poisons in the chalice blend. When will your trials teach you to be wise? -O prostrate Lands, consult your agonies!
No more the guilt is banish'd, And, with the guilt, the shame is fled; And, with the guilt and shame, the Woe hath vanish'd,
Shaking the dust and ashes from her head! -No more these lingerings of distress Sully the limpid stream of thankfulness. What robe can Gratitude employ
So seemly as the radiant vest of Joy? What steps so suitable as those that move In prompt obedience to spontaneous measures Of glory, and felicity, and love,
Surrendering the whole heart to sacred pleasures?
How dreadful the dominion of the impure! Why should the Song be tardy to proclaim That less than power unbounded could not tame That soul of Evil-which, from hell let loose, Had filled the astonished world with such abuse As boundless patience only could endure? -Wide-wasted regions-cities wrapt in flame— Who sees, may lift a streaming eye
To Heaven ;-who never saw, may heave a sigh; But the foundation of our nature shakes, And with an infinite pain the spirit aches, When desolated countries, towns on fire,
Are but the avowed attire
Of warfare waged with desperate mind Against the life of virtue in mankind; Assaulting without ruth
The citadels of truth;
While the fair gardens of civility,
By ignorance defaced,
By violence laid waste,
Perish without reprieve for flower or tree!
O Britain! dearer far than life is dear, If one there be
Who can forget thy prowess, never more Be that ungrateful Son allowed to hear Thy green leaves rustle or thy torrents roar. As springs the lion from his den, As from a forest-brake Upstarts a glistering snake,
The bold Arch-despot re-appeared ;—again Wide Europe heaves, impatient to be cast, With all her armed Powers,
On that offensive soil, like waves upon a thousand shores.
The trumpet blew a universal blast!
But Thou art foremost in the field :-there stand: Receive the triumph destined to thy hand! All States have glorified themselves;-their claims Are weighed by Providence, in balance even;
And now, in preference to the mightiest names, To Thee the exterminating sword is given. Dread mark of approbation, justly gained! Exalted office, worthily sustained!,
Preserve, O Lord! within our hearts The memory of thy favour, That else insensibly departs, And loses its sweet savour!
Lodge it within us !--as the power of light Lives inexhaustibly in precious gems, Fixed on the front of Eastern diadems, So shine our thankfulness for ever bright! What offering, what transcendent monument Shall our sincerity to Thee present?
-Not work of hands; but trophies that may reach
To highest Heaven-the labour of the Soul; That builds, as thy unerring precepts teach, Upon the internal conquests made by each, Her hope of lasting glory for the whole. Yet will not heaven disown nor earth gainsay The outward service of this day; Whether the worshippers entreat Forgiveness from God's mercy-seat; Or thanks and praises to His throne ascend That He has brought our warfare to an end, And that we need no second victory!- Ha! what a ghastly sight for man to see; And to the heavenly saints in peace who dwell, For a brief moment, terrible; But, to thy sovereign penetration, fair, Before whom all things are, that were, All judgments that have been, or e'er shall be; Links in the chain of thy tranquillity! Along the bosom of this favoured Nation, Breathe Thou, this day, a vital undulation! Let all who do this land inherit Be conscious of thy moving spirit! Oh, 'tis a goodly Ordinance, the sight, Though sprung from bleeding war, is one of pure
Bless Thou the hour, or ere the hour arrive, When a whole people shall kneel down in prayer, And, at one moment, in one rapture, strive With lip and heart to tell their gratitude For thy protecting care,
Their solemn joy-praising the Eternal Lord For tyranny subdued,
And for the sway of equity renewed,
For liberty confirmed, and peace restored!
But hark-the summons !-down the placid lake Floats the soft cadence of the church-tower bells; Bright shines the Sun, as if his beams would wake The tender insects sleeping in their cells; Bright shines the Sun-and not a breeze to shake The drops that tip the melting icicles.
O, enter now his temple gate! Inviting words-perchance already flung (As the crowd press devoutly down the aisle Of some old Minster's venerable pile)
From voices into zealous passion stung,
While the tubed engine feels the inspiring blast, And has begun-its clouds of sound to cast
Forth towards empyreal Heaven,
As if the fretted roof were riven. Us, humbler ceremonies now await; But in the bosom, with devout respect The banner of our joy we will erect, And strength of love our souls shall elevate: For to a few collected in his name, Their heavenly Father will incline an ear Gracious to service hallowed by its aim ;- Awake! the majesty of God revere !
Go-and with foreheads meekly bowed Present your prayers-go-and rejoice aloudThe Holy One will hear!
And what, 'mid silence deep, with faith sincere, Ye, in your low and undisturbed estate, Shall simply feel and purely meditate- Of warnings—from the unprecedented might, Which, in our time, the impious have disclosed; And of more arduous duties thence imposed Upon the future advocates of right; Of mysteries revealed, And judgments unrepealed, Of earthly revolution,
And final retribution,—
To his omniscience will appear
An offering not unworthy to find place,
On this high DAY of THANKS, before the Throne of Grace!
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