| |
| WHEN elemental conflicts rage, | |
| And heaven is wrapp’d in tempests dire, | |
| When storms with storms dread combat wage, | |
| And thunders roll etherial fire;— | |
| Returning zephyr’s odorous race, | 5 |
| And radiant Sol’s all-cheering face, | |
| The trembling mortals most desire. | |
| |
| When Eurus, charged with livid clouds, | |
| Scours o’er old ocean’s wild domain, | |
| And Boreas rends the vessel’s shrouds, | 10 |
| And o’er her swells the raging main; | |
| If lighter breezes should succeed, | |
| And Iris sweet, of varied hue, | |
| Lift o’er the main her beamy head, | |
| What raptures fill the marine crew! | 15 |
| Thus, when Bellona (ruthless maid!) | |
| Her empire through the world has spread, | |
| And death his flag has proud display’d | |
| O’er legions that in battle bled;— | |
| If peace, bedeck’d with olive robe, | 20 |
| (Resplendent nymph, sweet guest of heaven) | |
| Transfuse her balm around the globe, | |
| A theme of joy to man is given. | |
| Then wake, O muse! thy sweetest lays— | |
| Returning peace demands thy praise; | 25 |
| And while the notes in varied cadence sound, | |
| Eye thou the Theban swan that soars o’er heav’nly ground. | |
| |
| If thou from Albion’s sea-girt shore, | |
| Advent’rous muse, wilt deign to rove, | |
| Inclined remotest realms to explore | 30 |
| And soothe the savage soul to love; | |
| Hither wave thy wandering pinion, | |
| Here be fix’d thy last dominion. | |
| Warbling in ’Sylvania’s grove, | |
| Bright-eyed Euphrosyne! attend. | 35 |
| If genial peace can aught avail, | |
| With all thy graceful charms descend, | |
| And o’er the youthful lyre prevail. | |
| Bounteous peace with lavish hand, | |
| To every shore thy blessings strew, | 40 |
| O veil the blood-polluted land, | |
| And all thy grateful joys renew. | |
| Thy blissful pregnant reign restore, | |
| And calm the breasts of angry kings; | |
| Thy horn of Amalthean store | 45 |
| Ope, and expand thy golden wings; | |
| Till trade secure her treasure beams, | |
| And science reassumes her shades; | |
| Till shepherds quaff untainted streams, | |
| And hinds enjoy their native glades; | 50 |
| Till the glad muses strike the lyre, | |
| And virtuous social deeds inspire; | |
| Till the loud drum no more shall bid to arms prepare, | |
| Nor brazen trumpets breathe the horrid din of war. | |
| |
| Auspicious power, whose salutary ray | 55 |
| Form’d this new world, and rear’d her infant fame, | |
| Extend anew thy mitigating sway, | |
| And quell the hero’s battle-breathing flame. | |
| Ye fragrant myrtles, ope your peaceful bowers, | |
| And charm the warrior with your pleasing scenes, | 60 |
| Shield him with woodbine’s aromatic flowers, | |
| And for his sopha spread your velvet greens. | |
| For him the flute mellifluous shall blow | |
| In Lydian music, sounding soft and low, | |
| And blooming beauty, with attractive art, | 65 |
| Shall sweetly melt the tumults of his heart; | |
| The nectar’d bowl, with rosy garlands twined, | |
| Shall waft his sorrows to the vagrant wind, | |
| While the victorious laurel of renown, | |
| In verdant wreaths his manly brows shall crown. | 70 |
| |
| Too long has war’s terrific train, | |
| (The barbed spear and reeking blade) | |
| Made nations rue their chieftains slain, | |
| And sanguined every muse’s shade. | |
| From distant Volga’s rapid floods, | 75 |
| To Canada’s high towering woods, | |
| Has the deadly cannon bray’d. | |
| From whence the effulgent god of day | |
| Impearls Arabia’s spicy fields, | |
| To where his setting lustres play— | 80 |
| The world to British valor yields. | |
| How has bold Clive, with martial toil, | |
| O’er India borne his conquering lance, | |
| For Brunswick gain’d the distant soil, | |
| And dash’d th’ aspiring hopes of France? | 85 |
| Let Goree, rich with flaming ore, | |
| Heroic Keppel’s acts proclaim, | |
| And Senegal’s Eburnean shore | |
| Resound to future times his name. | |
| O’er red Germania’s hostile waste, | 90 |
| Britannia’s chiefs have conquering shone. | |
| Brave Elliot’s warlike fates have graced | |
| His monarch’s high illustrious throne; | |
| And Granby’s deeds the muses claim | |
| To swell the immortal trump of fame. | 95 |
| But victory enough has waved her glittering wand, | |
| With British honors graced, o’er every prostrate land! | |
| |
| Witness, ye plains bedew’d with gore, | |
| So late ambitious Gallia’s boast, | |
| Where howling o’er the desert shore, | 100 |
| Was seen the genius of the coast. | |
| Thus, leaning on her shatter’d spear, | |
| She wildly wail’d in deep despair, | |
| Her fallen towers and vanquish’d host— | |
| “As Niobe (when Juno’s hate | 105 |
| Pursued to death her tender care) | |
| I moan my offspring’s hopeless fate, | |
| And vex with sighs the passing air. | |
| Not with less grief my bosom heaves, | |
| Than did the breast of Hector’s sire, | 110 |
| When slain were all his Dardan chiefs, | |
| And Ilium blazed with Grecian fire. | |
| For lo! where heap’d with slaughter’d Gauls, | |
| Is Louisbourg a ruin’d pile! | |
| Her bulwarks and stupendous walls | 115 |
| Are whelm’d in dust and ashes vile. | |
| Imperial Lawrence heaves with woe, | |
| Of many a Gallic chief the grave, | |
| And as his purple billows flow | |
| To hoary Neptune’s coral cave, | 120 |
| Tells how my vaunting troops, o’erthrown, | |
| Britannia’s matchless prowess own; | |
| Tells how Quebec, so late for martial might renown’d, | |
| Her rocky ramparts crush’d, lies smoking on the ground. | |
| |
| “What force can Albion’s warlike sons dismay, | 125 |
| Dauntless who mingle in the embattled plain? | |
| What toils dishearten, or what dangers stay? | |
| Not rocks, nor deserts, nor the boisterous main! | |
| How torn my laurels, by her Wolfe’s dread arm! | |
| O’er mountains huge, who chased my armed band, | 130 |
| Roused the fierce savage with dire war’s alarm, | |
| And hurl’d his thunder o’er my carnaged land! | |
| No more gay trophies shall emblaze my name, | |
| Nor Gallia’s realms re-echo with my fame. | |
| Lost are those honors which my heroes gain’d, | 135 |
| With blood my temples and my domes are stain’d; | |
| But men directed by a heavenly hand, | |
| ’Tis vain, ’tis mad, ’tis impious to withstand.”— | |
| She spoke, and mounting from a lofty height, | |
| Westward she wing’d her solitary flight. | 140 |
| |
| Thus has Britannia’s glory beam’d, | |
| Where’er bright Phœbus, from his car, | |
| To earth his cheerful rays hath stream’d, | |
| Adown the crystal vault-of air. | |
| Enough o’er Britain’s shining arms, | 145 |
| Hath victory display’d her charms, | |
| Amid the horrid pomp of war— | |
| Descend then, Peace, angelic maid, | |
| And smooth Bellona’s haggard brow; | |
| Haste to diffuse thy healing aid, | 150 |
| Where’er implored by scenes of woe. | |
| Henceforth, whoe’er disturbs thy reign, | |
| Or stains the world with human gore, | |
| Be they from earth (a gloomy train!) | |
| Banish’d to hell’s profoundest shore; | 155 |
| Where vengeance, on Avernus’ lake, | |
| Rages, with furious Até bound; | |
| And black rebellion’s fetters shake, | |
| And discord’s hideous murmurs sound; | |
| Where envy’s noxious snakes entwine | 160 |
| Her temples round, in gorgon mood, | |
| And bellowing faction rolls supine | |
| Along the flame-becurled flood!— | |
| Hence, then, to that accursed place, | |
| Disturbers of the human race! | 165 |
| And with you bear ambition wild, and selfish pride, | |
| With persecution foul, and terror by her side. | |
| |
| Thus driven from earth war’s horrid train— | |
| O Peace, thou nymph divine, draw near! | |
| Here let the muses fix their reign, | 170 |
| And crown with fame each rolling year. | |
| Source of joy and genuine pleasure, | |
| Queen of quiet, queen of leisure, | |
| Haste thy votaries to cheer! | |
| Cherish’d beneath thy hallow’d rule, | 175 |
| Shall Pennsylvania’s glory rise; | |
| Her sons, bred up in Virtue’s school, | |
| Shall lift her honors to the skies— | |
| A state thrice blest with lenient sway, | |
| Where liberty exalts the mind; | 180 |
| Where plenty basks the live long day, | |
| And pours her treasures unconfined. | |
| Hither, ye beauteous virgins tend, | |
| With Arts and Science by your side, | |
| Whose skill the untutor’d morals mend, | 185 |
| And to fair honor mankind guide; | |
| And with you bring the graces three, | |
| To fill the soul with glory’s blaze; | |
| Whose charms give charms to poesy, | |
| And consecrate the immortal lays— | 190 |
| Such as, when mighty Pindar sung, | |
| Through the Alphean village rung; | |
| Or such as, Meles, by thy lucid fountains flow’d, | |
| When bold Mæonides with heavenly transports glow’d. | |
| |
| To such, may Delaware, majestic flood, | 195 |
| Lend, from his flowery banks, a ravish’d ear; | |
| Such note as may delight the wise and good, | |
| Or saints celestial may endure to hear! | |
| For if the muse can aught of time descry, | |
| Such notes shall sound thy crystal waves along, | 200 |
| Thy cities fair with glorious Athens vie, | |
| Nor pure Ilissus boast a nobler song. | |
| On thy fair banks, a fane to Virtue’s name | |
| Shall rise—and justice light her holy flame. | |
| All hail then, Peace! restore the golden days, | 205 |
| And round the ball diffuse Britannia’s praise; | |
| Stretch her wide empire to the world’s last end, | |
| Till kings remotest to her sceptre bend! | |
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