ODE on his MAJESTY's BIRTH-DA Y.

By HENRY JAMES PYE, Efq. Poet Laureate.
I.

OUD the whirlwind rang'd around
That thook affrighted Britain's fhore,

In peals of louder thunder drown'd

That mingled with the wint'ry roar ;
Dreadful amid the driving ftorm
The gliding meteor's horrid form

With tranfient gleam illum'd the air,
While thro' December's murky night,
Refulgent with unwonted light,
The livid flashes glare.

II.

But fee! the radiant lord of day

Now Northward rolls his burning car,

And scatters with victorious ray

The rage of elemental war.

To reft the troubled waves fubfide,
And gently o'er the curling tide

Young Zephyr leads the vernal hours;

Adorns with richest dyes the vale,
And fragrance wafts on every gale
From June's ambrofial flowers.
III.

O may no low'ring gloom o'ercaft

Th' aufpicious morn to Britain dear,
Or Eurus check with envious blast

The promife of the rip'ning year!-
Or fhould fome transitory cloud
Awhile th' etherial fplendour shroud,

Soon fhall the fun his ftream renew;
Soon fhall the landscape smile around
With more luxuriant verdure crown'd,
And bloom with livelier hue.
IV.

Exulting in her prince rever'd,
Whole mild parental virtues grace
The facred throne, by glory rear'd

On freedom's adamantine base,
While Albion pours the festive strain,
Refponfive to her choral train

The mufe enraptur'd joins the throng;
Proud that a grateful people's praise
Echoes the votive verfe fhe pays,

And confecrates her fong.

CHARACTERISTICS of LIBERTY in the SAVAGE STATE of this ISLAND, its EXTINCTION in the early STAGES of our MONARCHY, and its REVIVAL and INFLUENCE in the prefent civilized STATE of MANNERS.

[From the Aboriginal Britons, by GEORGE RICHARDS, B. A.]

IN

'N Albion's ancient days, midft nothern fnows,
Hardy and bold, immortal Freedom rose.
She roam'd the founding margin of the deep,
Conway's wild bank, and Cader's craggy fteep:
A bloody wolf-fkin o'er her back was fpread;
An axe fhe bore; and wild weeds grac'd her head.
On Snowden's cliffs reclin'd fhe watch'd on high
The tempeft-driven clouds, that crofs'd the fky;
Or caught with liftening ear the founding gale,
When the dread war-fong fhook the diftant dale
At battle's close fhe roam'd the enfanguin'd plain,
And gaz'd the threatening afpects of the flain.
Now from ignoble floth fhe rarely rofe,
For favage freedom finks to mute repofe;
Now to wild joys, and the bowl's maddening powers
Gave up the torpid fenfe and liftless hours;
Now joyful faw the naked fword difplay'd,

Though brother's blood flow'd reeking from the blade.
By tyrants funk fhe rofe more proudly great,
As ocean fwells indignant in the ftrait;

And, borne in chains from Cambria's mountains bleak,
Rais'd virtue's generous blush on Cæfar's cheek.

But ah! full many a dark and stormy year
She dropt o'er Albion's ifle the patriot tear.
Retir'd to mountains from the craggy dell
She caught the Norman curfeu's tyrant knell.
Sad to her view the baron's caftle frown'd
Bold from the fteep, and aw'd the plains around:
She forrowing heard the papal thunders roll,
And mourn'd the ignoble bondage of the foul:
She blush'd, a Cromwell, blufh'd at Charles's doom
And wept, mifguided Sidney, o'er thy tomb.

But now reviv'd fhe boasts a purer caufe,
Refin'd by fcience, form'd by generous laws:
High hangs her helmet in the banner'd hall,
Nor founds her clarion but at honour's call.
Now walks the land with olive chaplet's crown'd,
Exalting worth, and beaming fafety round:
With fecret joy and confcious pride admires
The patriot spirit, which herself infpires:

Sees

Sees barren wäftes with unknown fruitage bloom-;
Sees Labour bending patient o'er the loom;
Sees Science rove thro' academic bow'rs;
And peopled cities lift their fpiry towers:
Trade fwells her fails, wherever ocean rolls,
Glows at the line, and freezes at the poles:

While through unwater'd plains and wondering meads
Waves not its own the obedient river leads.

But chief the god-like mind, which bears imprefs'd
Its Maker's glorious image full confeft;
Nobleft of works created; more divine,
Than all the ftarry worlds, that nightly fhine ;
Form'd to live on, unconscious of decay,
When the wide universe shall melt away:
The mind, which, hid in favage breaft of yore,
Lay, like Golconda's gems, an ufelefs ore;
Now greatly dares fublimeft aims to fcan;
Enriches fcience, and enobles man ;

Unveils the femblance, which it's God beftow'd

And draws more near the fount, from whence it flow'd.

ODE on the diftant VIEW of FRANCE from DOVER CLIFF, in the Year 1789.

[From the fourth Volume of the Poetry of the World.]

ENIUS of France! thy mifty fhore

GFrom Albion's rocky verge I trace,

As high above the billowy roar,

I dart my view thro' fubject space :
Thron'd on this cliff's embattled brow,
I feem the lord of all below,

And while my patriot paffions boil,
I gaze indignant on thy crouching foil!

Has not old ocean's ruthless force

Torn thee from favour'd Britain's fide ?

And here with well-directed course

Still rolls he not his barrier tide?
Yes! his dividing waves defign'd
To give this leffon to mankind-
'Tis nature's voice, 'tis Heav'n's decree,
Britain! alone be great - alone be free."

Warm'd with the thought my fancy dreams
Of all the mighty deeds of old,
When Britain rous'd to martial themes
Her monarchs ftern, her warriors bold:

M 3

I hear

I hear from off this airy steep Her thunder rattle o'er the deep, See in the field her fire display'd,

And mark the withering lily droop and fade.

Then proudly turn my mental eye

On fcenes of council-fcenes of peace,
Where freedom lifts her voice on high,
And bids each tyrant paffion ceafe.
Illuftrious ifle! let circling fame
Thy juft pre-eminence proclaim !
In clashing arins, in fage debate,
Alike fupremely brave- fupremely great.

Such flattering vifions footh my foul,
Elanc'd from this aerial height;
No narrow bounds her range controul,
No power restrains her daring flight.
Say what awakes the Eagle's fire?

The pride his towering haunts infpire-
He wheels around his favourite stand,
And frowns contempt on every distant land,

Hufh'd be the haughty ftrain! a found

Of maddening joy burft on my ear!
From fhore to fhore its echoes bound-
'Tis new-born freedom's voice I hear!
Arous'd at fuperftition's death,

In Gallia's womb fhe pants for breath!
Fresh thouts announce the finish'd ftrife,
She breaks her bands-fhe fprings to life!

Transporting founds! they check my pride,
My flattering visions melt away:
At wifdom's nod my.vaunts ubfide-
I own her juft, impartial fway.

From clime to clime may freedom's note
On ocean's wavy bofom float!

May rapid gales its fpirit bear,

Till every diftant tribe the bleffing fhare:

Enlighten'd France! no more I view

With cold contempt thy glittering coaft-
To active worth is honour due;

Th' unfetter'd mind has caufe to boast.
Henceforth e'en Britain's fplendid name
Can no fuperior luftre claim,

Nor fingly now fhall dart its rays,

But blend with thine in freedom's fpreading blaze,

Enough

Enough of war, of proud difdain—
The felfifh thought, the taunting jeft;
Abfurd diftinction-preference vain,

Be banifh'd from the liberal breast!
Ye fwell'd the lift of human woes!
Ye made of France and Britain foes!
Taught each to fcorn its neighbouring state,
And thwart its views with unremitting hate.

Malignant fhadows-hence, away!

Hie to fome dark, unletter'd fhore!
Behold the dawn of reason's day-
Britain and France contend no more.
In freedom's caufe from age to age
Shall both with equal warmth engage,
Pursue the fame exalted plan,

And vindicate on earth the Rights of Man.

ON a TEAR.

[From the third Volume of the fame Work.]

H! that the Chemift's magic art
Could chryftalize this facred treafure!

Long fhould it glitter near my heart,
A fecret fource of penfive pleasure.

The little brilliant, ere it fell,

It's luftre caught from Chloe's eye;
Then, trembling, left its coral cell-
The spring of fenfibility!

Sweet drop of pure and pearly light!
In thee the rays of virtue fhine
More calmly clear, more mildly bright,
Than any gem that gilds the mine.

Benign restorer of the foul!

Who ever fly'ft to bring relief, When firft the feels the rude controul Of love or pity, joy or grief,

The fage's and the poet's theme,

In every clime, in every age;

Thou charm'ft in fancy's idle dream,
In reafon's philofophic page.