And navies perish in their ports;
For Thou art angry with thine enemies!
For these, and for our errors,
And sins that paint their terrors,

We bow our heads before Thee; and we laud
And magnify thy name, Almighty God!
But thy most dreaded instrument,
In working outa pure intent,

Is man-array'd for mutual slaughter.
Yea, Carnage is thy daughter; ̧

Thou cloth'st the wicked in their dazzling mail,
And by thy just permission they prevail;
Thine arm from peril guards the coasts
Of them who in thy law delight:

Thy presence turns the scale of doubtful fight,
Tremendous God of battles, Lord of Hosts!
To THEE! to THEE!

On this appointed day shall thanks ascend,
That Thou hast brought our warfare to an end;
And that we need no further victory!

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 favour'd 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 delight; Bless Thou the hour, or ere the hour arrive,

When a whole people shall kneel down in prayer,

And, at one moment, in one spirit, 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 renew'd,
For liberty confirm'd, 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 might wako
The tender insects sleeping in their cells;
Bright shines the sun-and not a breeze to shake
The drops that point 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

Towards the 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,
The heavenly Father will incline His ear,
Hallowing Himselí the service which they frame.
Awake! the majesty of God revere !

Go,-and with foreheads meekly bow'd,
Present your prayer: go,-and rejoice aloud-
The Holy One will hear !

And what 'mid silence deep, with faith sincere,
Ye, in your low and undisturb'd 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 reveal'd,

And judgments unrepeal'd,-
Of earthly revolution,

And final retribution,

To his Omniscience will appear

As offering not unworthy to find place On this high Day of Thanks, before the throne of grace.

ODE.

COMPOSED IN JANUARY, 1816.

WHEN the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch
Of the tired household of corporeal sense,

And Fancy, in her airy bower, kept watch,

Free to exert some kindly influence;

I saw-but little boots it that my verse

A shadowy visitation should rehearse;

For to our shores such glory hath been brought,

That dreams no brighter are than waking thought

I saw, in wondrous perspective display'd,

A landscape richer than the happiest skill

Of pencil ever clothed with light and shade ;-
An intermingled pomp of vale and hill,
Tower, town, and city, and suburban grove,
And stately forest where the wild deer rove;
And, in a clouded quarter of the sky,
Through such a portal as with cheerful eye
The traveller greets in time of threaten'd storm,
Issued, to sudden view, a radiant form!
Earthward it glided with a swift descent;
Saint George himself this visitant may be;

And ere a thought could ask in what intent
He sought the regions of humanity,
A thrilling voice was heard, that vivified
My patriotic heart; aloud it cried :
"I, the guardian of this land,
Speak not now of toilsome duty-
Well obey'd was that command-
Days are come of festive beauty;

Haste, virgins, haste!-the flowers which summer gave,
Have perish'd in the field;

But the green thickets plenteously will yield

Fit garlands for the brave,

That will be welcome, if by you entwined.

Haste, virgins, haste! And you, ye matrons grave,
Go forth with rival youthfulness of mind,

And gather what ye find

Of hardy laurel, and wild holly boughs,
To deck your stern defenders' modest brows?
Such simple gifts prepare,

Though they have gain'd a worthier meed;
And in due time shall share

Those palms and amaranthine wreaths
Unto their martyr'd countrymen decreed,

In realms where everlasting freshness breathes!"

And lo! with crimson banners proudly streaming,
And upright weapons innocently gleaming,
Along the surface of the spacious plain,
Advance in order the redoubted bands,

And there receive green chaplets from the hands
Of a fair female train,

Maids and matrons, dight

In robes of purest white;

While from the crowd bursts forth a rapturous noise,

By the cloud-capp'd hills retorted,—

And a throng of rosy boys

In loose fashion told their joys,—

And grey-hair'd sires, on staffs supported,

Look'd round, and by their smiling seem'd to say:

"Thus strives a grateful country to display

The mighty debt which nothing can repay."

Anon, I saw, beneath a dome of state,

The feast dealt forth with bounty unconfined,
And while the vaulted roof did emulate

The starry heavens through splendour of the show,
It rang with music, and methought the wind
Scatter'd the tuneful largess far and near,

That they who ask'd not might partake the cheer,
Who listen'd not could hear,

Where'er the wild winds were allow'd to blow,
That work reposing, on the verge

Of busiest exultation hung a dirge,
Breathed from a soft and lonely instrument,

That kindled recollections
Of agonized affections;

And, though some tears the strain attended,
The mournful passion ended

In peace of spirit and sublime content!

But garlands wither,-festal shows depart Like dreams themselves; and sweetest sounds, Albeit of effect profound,

It was and it is gone.

Victorious England! bid the silent art
Reflect, in glowing hues that shall not fade,
Those high achievements,-e'en as she array'd
With second life the deed of Marathon

Upon Athenian walls :

So may she labour for thy civic halls;
And be the guardian spaces

Of consecrated places

Graced with such gifts as sculpture can bestow,
When inspiration guides her pensive toil;
And let imperishable trophies grow

Fix'd in the depths of this courageous soil!
Expressive records of a glorious strife,
And competent to shed a spark divine
Into the torpid heart of daily life;

Trophies on which the morning sun may shine,
As changeful ages flow

With gratulations thoroughly benign!

And ye, Pierian sisters, sprung from Jove, And sage Mnemosyne,-full long debarr'd' From your first mansions, exiled all too long From many a consecrated stream and grove, Dear native regions where ye wont to rove, Chanting for patriot heroes the reward

Of never-dying song!

Now (for though truth descending from above
The Olympian summit hath destroy'd for aye
Your kindred deities, ye live and move,
And exercise unblamed a generous sway),
Now, on the margin of some spotless fountain,
Or top serene of unmolested mountain,
Strike audibly the noblest of your lyres,
And for a moment meet my soul's desires!
That I, or some more favour'd bard, may hear
What ye, celestial maids, have often sung
Of Britain's acts,-may catch it with rapt ear,
And give the treasure to our British tongue!
So shall the character of that proud page
Support their mighty theme from age to age;
And, in the desert places of the earth,
When they to future empire have given birth,
So shall the people gather and believe
The bold report, transferr'd to every clime;

And the whole world, not envious but admiring,
And to the last aspiring,

Own that the progeny of that fair Isle
Had power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man's heroic prime;
Nor wanted, when their fortitude had held
Its even tenor and the foe was quell'd,
A corresponding virtue, to beguile
The hostile purpose of wide-wasting time;
That not in vain they labour to secure
For their great deeds perpetual memory,
And fame, as largely spread as land and sea,
-By works of spirit high and passion pure.

Miscellaneous Pieces.

INSCRIPTION FOR A NATIONAL MONUMENT IN COMMEMORATION OF THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

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 quell'd that impious crew.
Heroes! for instant sacrifice prepared,

Yet fill'd with ardour, and on triumph bent
'Mid direst shocks of mortal accident-

To

you who fell, and you whom slaughter spared To guard the fall'n, and consummate the eventYour country rears this sacred monument!

OCCASIONED BY THE SAME BATTLE. FEBRUARY, 1816.
THE bard, whose soul is meek as dawning day,
Yet train'd to judgments righteously severe;
Fervent, yet conversant with holy fear,
As recognizing 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 whence mists have roll'd away;
Assoil'd from all incumbrance of our time,
He only, if such breathe, in strain's devout
Shall comprehend this victory sublime,
And worthily rehearse the hideous rout,

Which the blest angels, from their peaceful clime,
Beholding, welcomed with a choral shout.