At length the hour of retribution comes!
Avenging nations on all sides move on;
In Gascony the flag of England flies,
Triumphant, as of yore,

When sable Edward led his peerless host.
Behold the Spaniard and the Portugal,
For cities burnt, for violated fanes,
For murders, massacres,

All monstrous, all unutterable crimes, Demanding vengeance with victorious cries, Pour from the Pyrenees.

The Russian comes, his eye on Paris fix'd, The flames of Moscow present to his heart; The Austrian to efface

Ulm, Austerlitz, and Wagram's later shame ; Rejoicing Germany

With all her nations swells the avenging train; And in the field and in the triumph first, Thy banner, Frederick, floats.

10.

Six weeks in daily strife

The veteran Blucher bore the brunt of war. Glorious old man,

The last and greatest of his master's school,
Long may he live to hear

The people bless his name!
Late be it ere the wreath
That crowns his silver hair
Adorn his monument!
Glorious old man,

How oft hath he discomfited
The boasted chiefs of France,

And foil'd her vaunting Tyrant's desperate rage!

Glorious old man,

Who from Silesia's fields,

O'er Elbe, and Rhine, and Seine, From victory to victory marching on, Made his heroic way; till at the gates Of Paris, open'd by his arms, he saw His King triumphant stand.

11.

Bear back the sword of Frederick now! The sword which France amid her spoils display'd, Proud trophy of a day ignobly won. With laurels wreathe the sword; Bear it in triumph back,

Thus gloriously regain'd;

And when thou lay'st it in its honour'd place, O Frederick, well-beloved,

Greatest and best of that illustrious name,

Lay by its side thine own,

A holier relic there!

12.

Frederick, the well-beloved!
Welcome to these free shores,

To England welcome, to the happy Isle !
In glory art thou come,
Thy victory perfect, thy revenge complete.

ODE.

THE BATTLE OF ALgiers.

1.

ONE day of dreadful occupation more,

Ere England's gallant ships

Shall, of their beauty, pomp, and power disrobed,
Like sea-birds on the sunny main,
Rock idly in the port.

2.

One day of dreadful occupation more! A work of righteousness,

Yea, of sublimest mercy, must be done; England will break the oppressor's chain, And set the captives free.

3.

Red cross of England, which all shores have seen
Triumphantly displayed,

Thou sacred banner of the glorious Isle,
Known wheresoever keel hath cut
The navigable deep;

4.

Ne'er didst thou float more proudly o'er the storm
Of havoc and of death,

Than when, resisting fiercely, but in vain,
Algiers, her moony standard lowered,
And sign'd the conqueror's law.

5.

Oh, if the grave were sentient, as these Moors
In erring credence hold;

And if the victims of captivity
Could in the silent tomb have heard
The thunder of the fight;

6.

Sure their rejoicing dust upon that day
Had heaved the oppressive soil,

And earth been shaken like the mosques and towers,
When England on those guilty walls
Her fiery vengeance sent.

7.

Seldom hath victory given a joy like this, -
When the delivered slave

Revisits once again his own dear home,
And tells of all his sufferings past,
And blesses Exmouth's name.

8.

Far, far and wide along the Italian shores, That holy joy extends;

Sardinian mothers pay their vows fulfill'd; And hymns are heard beside thy banks, O Fountain Arethuse !

9.

Churches shall blaze with lights, and ring with praise,
And deeper strains shall rise

From many an overflowing heart to Heaven;
Nor will they in their prayers forget

The hand that set them free.

Keswick.

10.

ODE

ON THE DEATH OF QUEEN CHARLOTTE.

1.

DEATH has gone up into our Palaces!
The light of day once more
Hath visited the last abode
Of mortal royalty,

The dark and silent vault.

2.

But not as when the silence of that vault Was interrupted last

Doth England raise her loud lament,

Like one by sudden grief
Surprised and overcome.

3.

Then with a passionate sorrow we bewail'd

Youth on the untimely bier;

And hopes which seem'd like flower-buds full,

Just opening to the sun,

For ever swept away.

4.

Her left hand knew not of the ample alms
Which her right hand had done;
And therefore in the aweful hour,

The promises were hers

To secret bounty made.

11.

With more than royal honours to the tomb Her bier is borne; with more

Than Pomp can claim, or Power bestow; With blessings and with prayers

From many a grateful heart.

12.

Long, long then shall Queen Charlotte's name be dear; And future Queens to her

As to their best exemplar look;

Who imitates her best

May best deserve our love.

Keswick, 1818.

ODE

FOR ST. GEORGE'S DAY.

1.

WILD were the tales which fabling monks of old
Devised to swell their hero's holy fame,
When in the noble army they enroll'd
St. George's doubtful name.

Of arrows and of spears they told
Which fell rebated from his mortal mould;
And how the burning fiery furnace blast
To him came tempered like a summer breeze,
When at the hour of evening it hath past
O'er gurgling tanks, and groves of lemon trees:
And how the reverential flame
Condensing like a garb of honour, play'd
In gorgeous folds around his glorious frame;
And how the Heathen in their frantic strife
With water then alike in vain, essay'd
His inextinguishable life.

2.

What marvel if the Christian Knight Thus for his dear Redeemer's sake Defied the purpled Pagan's might? Such boldness well might he partake, For he beside the Libyan lake Silene, with the Infernal King Had coped in actual fight. The old Dragon on terrific wing Assail'd him there with Stygian sting And arrowy tongue, and potent breath Exhaling pestilence and death. Dauntless in faith the Champion stood, Opposed against the rage of Hell The Red-Cross shield, and wielding well His sword, the strife pursued ; First with a wide and rending wound Brought the maim'd monster to the ground, Then pressing with victorious heel Upon his scaly neck subdued, Plunged and replunged the searching steel;

Till from the shameful overthrow Howling the incarnate Demon fled, And left that form untenanted, And hid in Hell his humbled head, Still trembling in the realm below, At thought of that tremendous foe.

3.

Such tales monastic fablers taught; Their kindred strain the minstrels caught; A web of finer texture they Wrought in the rich romantic lay; Of magic caves and woods they sung, Where Kalyb nursed the boy divine, And how those woods and caverns rung With cries from many a demon tongue, When breaking from the witch's cell, He bound her in her own strong spell. And of the bowers of Ormandine Where thrall'd by art, St. David lay

Sleeping inglorious years away, Till our St. George, with happier arm Released him, and dissolved the charm. But most the minstrels loved to tell Of that portentous day,

When Sabra at the stake was bound, Her brow with sweetest garlands crown'd The Egyptian Dragon's prey; And how for her the English Knight, Invincible at such a sight, Engaged that fiendish beast in fight, And o'er the monster triple-scaled, The good sword Askalon prevail'd.

4.

Such legends monks and minstrels feign'd,
And easily the wondrous tales obtain❜d,
In those dark days, belief;

Shrines to the Saint were rear'd, and temples rose,
And states and kingdoms for their patron chose
The Cappadocian Chief.

Full soon his sainted name hath won
In fields of war a wide renown;
Spain saw the Moors confounded fly,
Before the well-known slaughter cry,
St. George for Aragon!
And when the Catalans pursued
Their vengeful way with fire and blood,
The Turk and treacherous Greek were dearly taught
That all-appalling shout,

For them with rage and ruin fraught
In many a dolorous rout.

'Twas in this heavenly Guardian's trusted strength,
That Malta's old heroic knights defied
The Ottoman in all his power and pride.
Repulsed from her immortal walls at length
The baffled Misbeliever turn'd with shame;
And when in after years in dreams he heard
That all-too-well remember'd battle-word,
Woke starting at St. George's dreadful name,
And felt cold sweats of fear suffuse his trembling
frame.

5.

But thou, O England! to that sainted name Hast given its proudest praise, its loftiest fame.

Witness the field of Cressy, on that day, When vollying thunders roll'd unheard on high, For in that memorable fray,

Broken, confused, and scatter'd in dismay,
France had ears only for the Conqueror's cry,
St. George, St. George for England! St. George and
Victory!

Bear witness Poictiers! where again the foe
From that same hand received his overthrow.
In vain essay'd, Mont Joye St. Denis rang
From many a boastful tongue,

And many a hopeful heart in onset brave;
Their courage in the shock of battle quail'd
His dread response, when sable Edward gave,
And England and St. George again prevail'd.
Bear witness Agincourt, where once again
The banner'd lilies on the ensanguined plain
Were trampled by the fierce pursuers' feet;
And France, doom'd ever to defeat
Against that foe, beheld her myriads fly
Before the withering cry

St. George, St. George for England! St. George and
Victory!

6.

That cry in many a field of Fanie Through glorious ages held its high renown; Nor less hath Britain proved the sacred name 'Auspicious to her crown.

Troubled too oft her course of fortune ran,
Till when the Georges came

Her happiest age began.
Beneath their just and liberal sway,
Old feuds and factions died away;
One feeling through her realms was known,
One interest of the Nation and the Throne.
Ring, then, ye bells upon St. George's Day,
From every tower in glad accordance ring;
And let all instruments full, strong, or sweet,
With touch of modulated string,
And soft or swelling breath, and sonorous beat,
The happy name repeat,

While heart and voice their joyous tribute bring, And speak the People's love for George their King. Keswick, 1820.

ODE

WRITTEN AFTER THE KING'S VISIT TO IRELAND. 1.

How long, O Ireland, from thy guilty ground Shall innocent blood

Arraign the inefficient arm of Power? How long shall Murder there, Leading his banded ruffians through the land, Range unrepress'd?

How long shall Night Bring to thy harmless dwellers, in the stead Of natural rest, the feverish sleep of fear, Midnight alarms,

Horrible dreams, and worse realities? How long shall darkness cover, and the eye Of Morning open upon deeds of death?

2.

In vain art thou by liberal Nature's dower

Exuberantly blest;

The Seasons in their course

Shed o'er thy hills and vales

The bounties of a genial clime, in vain; Heaven hath in vain bestowed

Well-tempered liberty,

(Its last and largest boon to social man,) If the brute Multitude from age to age, Wild as their savage ancestors,

Go irreclaim'd the while,
From sire to son transmitting still
In undisturb'd descent,
(A sad inheritance!)

Their errors, and their crimes.

3.

Green Island of the West!

Thy Sister Kingdom fear'd not this
When thine exultant shores

Rung far and wide of late,

And grateful Dublin first beheld her King, First of thy Sovereigns he

Who visited thy shores in peace and joy.

4.

Oh what a joy was there!
In loud huzzahs prolong'd,
Surge after surge the tide
Of popular welcome rose;

And in the intervals alone

Of that tumultuous sound of glad acclaim,
Could the deep cannon's voice

Of duteous gratulation, though it spake
In thunder, reach the ear.

From every tower the merry bells rung round,
Peal hurrying upon peal,

Till with the still reverberating din The walls and solid pavement seem'd to shake, And every bosom with the tremulous air Inhaled a dizzy joy.

5.

Age that came forth to gaze,
That memorable day

Felt in its quicken'd veins a pulse like youth;
And lisping babes were taught to bless their King;
And grandsires bade the children treasure up
The precious sight, for it would be a tale
The which in their old age

Would make their children's children gather round Intent, all ears to hear.

6.

Were then the feelings of that generous time
Ephemeral as the joy?

Pass'd they away like summer clouds,
Like dreams of infancy,

Like glories of the evening firmament,
Which fade, and leave no trace ?
Merciful Heaven, oh let not thou the hope
Be frustrate, that our Sister Isle may reap
From the good seed then sown
Full harvests of prosperity and peace;

That perfect union may derive its date From that auspicious day,

And equitable ages thence

Their lasting course begin;

7.

Green Island of the West,

While frantic violence delays

That happier order, still must thou remain
In thine own baleful darkness wrapt;
As if the Eye divine,

That which beholdeth all, from thee alone
In wrath had turn'd away!

8.

But not for ever thus shalt thou endure,
To thy reproach, and ours,

Thy misery, and our shame!

For Mercy shall go forth

To stablish Order, with an arm'd right hand; And firm Authority

With its all-present strength controul the bad, And with its all-sufficient shield

Protect the innocent;

The first great duty this of lawful Power Which holds its delegated right from Heaven.

9.

The first great duty this; but this not all ; For more than comes within the scope Of Power, is needed here; More than to watch insidious discontent, Curb, and keep curb'd the treasonable tongue, And quell the madden'd multitude: Labours of love remain;

To weed out noxious customs rooted deep
In a rank soil, and long left seeding there ;
Pour balm into old wounds, and bind them up;
Remove remediable ills,
Improve the willing mind,
And win the generous heart.
Afflicted Country, from thyself
Must this redemption come;

And thou hast children able to perform
This work of faith and hope.

10.

O for a voice that might recall
To their deserted hearths
Thy truant sons! a voice
Whose virtuous cogency
Might with the strength of duty reach their souls;
A strength that should compel entire consent,
And to their glad obedience give
The impulse and the force of free good-will!
For who but they can knit

The severed links of that appointed chain,
Which when in just cohesion it unites
Order to order, rank to rank,

In mutual benefit,

So binding heart to heart,

It then connecteth Earth with Heaven, from whence

The golden links depend.

11.

Nor when the war is waged
With Error, and the brood

Of Darkness, will your aid

Be wanting in the cause of Light and Love,
Ye Ministers of that most holy Church
Whose firm foundations on the rock
Of Scripture rest secure!

What though the Romanist in numbers strong,
In misdirected zeal

And bigotry's blind force,

Assail your Fortress; though the sons of Schism
Join in insane alliance with that old

Inveterate enemy,
Weening thereby to wreak

Their covenanted hatred, and effect

Your utter overthrow;

What though the unbelieving crew,
For fouler purpose aid the unnatural league ;

And Faction's wolfish pack

Set up their fiercest yell, to augment
The uproar of assault;

Clad in your panoply will ye be found, Wielding the spear of Reason, with the sword

Of Scripture girt; and from your shield of Truth Such radiance shall go forth,

As when, unable to sustain its beams On Arthur's arm unveil'd, Earth-born Orgoglio reel'd, as if with wine; And from her many-headed beast cast down Duessa fell, her cup of sorcery spilt, Her three-crown'd mitre in the dust devolved, And all her secret filthiness exposed.

12.

O thou fair Island, with thy Sister Isle
Indissolubly link'd for weal and woe;
Partaker of her present power,
Her everlasting fame;

Dear pledges hast thou render'd and received
Of that eternal union! Bedell's grave
Is in thy keeping; and with thee
Deposited, doth Taylor's holy dust

Await the Archangel's call.

O land profuse of genius and of worth, Largely hast thou received, and largely given !

13.

Green Island of the West,

The example of unspotted Ormond's faith
To thee we owe; to thee
Boyle's venerable name :
Berkeley the wise, the good:
And that great Orator who first
Unmask'd the harlot sorceress Anarchy,
What time, in Freedom's borrowed form profaned,
She to the nations round

Her draught of witchcraft gave:
And him who in the field

O'erthrew her giant offspring in his strength,
And brake the iron rod.
Proud of such debt,

Rich to be thus indebted, these,

Fair Island, Sister Queen

Of Ocean, Ireland, these to thee we owe.

14.

Shall I then imprecate

A curse on them that would divide Our union?.. Far be this from me, O Lord! Far be it! What is man,

That he should scatter curses? . . King of Kings,
Father of all, Almighty, Governor

Of all things! unto Thee
Humbly I offer up our holier prayer!
I pray Thee, not in wrath
But in thy mercy, to confound
These men's devices. Lord !

Lighten their darkness with thy Gospel light,
And thus abate their pride,
Assauge their malice thus !