The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair, and Falconer Part 44

ODE ON THE DUKE OF YORK'S SECOND DEPARTURE FROM ENGLAND AS REAR-ADMIRAL.

WRITTEN ABOARD THE ROYAL GEORGE.

[Note: line-numbering counts lines of poetry only, blank lines are not counted. text Ed.]

Again the royal streamers play, To glory Edward hastes away; Adieu, ye happy silvan bowers, Where pleasure's sprightly throng await!

Ye domes, where regal grandeur towers In purple ornaments of state!

Ye scenes where virtue's sacred strain Bids the tragic Muse complain!

Where satire treads the comic stage, To scourge and mend a venal age; 10 Where music pours the soft, melodious lay, And melting symphonies congenial play: Ye silken sons of ease, who dwell In flowery vales of peace, farewell!

In vain the G.o.ddess of the myrtle grove Her charms ineffable displays; In vain she calls to happier realms of love, Which Spring's unfading bloom arrays; In vain her living roses blow, And ever-vernal pleasures grow; 20 The gentle sports of youth no more Allure him to the peaceful sh.o.r.e; Arcadian ease no longer charms, For war and fame alone can please: His throbbing bosom beats to arms, To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas.

CHORUS. The gentle sports of youth no more Allure him to the peaceful sh.o.r.e, For war and fame alone can please: To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas. 30

Though danger's hostile train appears To thwart the course that honour steers; Unmoved he leads the rugged way, Despising peril and dismay.

His country calls; to guard her laws, Lo! every joy the gallant youth resigns; The avenging naval sword he draws, And o'er the waves conducts her martial lines: Hark! his sprightly clarions play; Follow where he leads the way! 40 The piercing fife, the sounding drum, Tell the deeps their master's come.

CHORUS. Hark! his sprightly clarions play, Follow where he leads the way!

The piercing fife, the sounding drum, Tell the deeps their master's come.

Thus Alcmena's warlike son The th.o.r.n.y course of virtue run, When, taught by her unerring voice, He made the glorious choice: 50 Severe, indeed, the attempt he knew, Youth's genial ardours to subdue: For pleasure, Venus' lovely form a.s.sumed; Her glowing charms, divinely bright, In all the pride of beauty bloom'd, And struck his ravish'd sight.

Transfix'd, amazed, Alcides gazed: Enchanting grace Adorn'd her face, 60 And all his changing looks confess'd The alternate pa.s.sions in his breast: Her swelling bosom half reveal'd, Her eyes that kindling raptures fired, A thousand tender pains instill'd, A thousand flattering thoughts inspired: Persuasion's sweetest language hung In melting accent on her tongue: Deep in his heart the winning tale Infused a magic power; 70 She press'd him to the rosy vale, And show'd the Elysian bower: Her hand that trembling ardours move, Conducts him blus.h.i.+ng to the blest alcove: Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms, And won by love's resistless arms, The captive yields to nature's soft alarms!

CHORUS. Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms, And won by love's resistless arms, The captive yields to nature's soft alarms! 80

a.s.sist, ye guardian powers above!

From ruin save the son of Jove!

By heavenly mandate virtue came, And check'd the fatal flame: Swift as the quivering needle wheels, Whose point the magnet's influence feels, Inspired with awe, He, turning, saw The nymph divine Transcendent s.h.i.+ne; 90 And, while he view'd the G.o.dlike maid, His heart a sacred impulse sway'd: His eyes with ardent motion roll, And love, regret, and hope, divide his soul.

But soon her words his pain destroy, And all the numbers of his heart, Return'd by her celestial art, Now swell'd to strains of n.o.bler joy.

Instructed thus by virtue's lore, His happy steps the realms explore, 100 Where guilt and error are no more: The clouds that veil'd his intellectual ray, Before his breath dispelling, melt away: Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain, He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign: Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd, And in his breast paternal glory burn'd.

CHORUS. Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain, He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign: Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd, 110 And in his breast paternal glory burn'd.

So when on Britain's other hope she shone, Like him the royal youth she won: Thus taught, he bids his fleet advance To curb the power of Spain and France: Aloft his martial ensigns flow, And hark! his brazen trumpets blow!

The watery profound, Awaked by the sound, All trembles around: 120 While Edward o'er the azure fields Fraternal wonder wields: High on the deck behold he stands, And views around his floating bands In awful order join: They, while the warlike trumpet's strain, Deep sounding, swells along the main, Extend the embattled line.

Then Britain triumphantly saw His armament ride 130 Supreme on the tide, And o'er the vast ocean give law.

CHORUS. Then Britain triumphantly saw His armament ride, Supreme on the tide, And o'er the vast ocean give law.

Now with shouting peals of joy, The s.h.i.+ps their horrid tubes display, Tier over tier in terrible array, And wait the signal to destroy. 140 The sailors all burn to engage: Hark! hark! their shouts arise, And shake the vaulted skies!

Exulting with baccha.n.a.l rage.

Then, Neptune, the hero revere, Whose power is superior to thine!

And, when his proud squadrons appear, The trident and chariot resign!

CHORUS. Then, Neptune, the hero revere, Whose power is superior to thine! 150 And, when his proud squadrons appear, The trident and chariot resign!

Albion, wake thy grateful voice!

Let thy hills and vales rejoice!

O'er remotest hostile regions Thy victorious flags are known; Thy resistless martial legions Dreadful move from zone to zone.

Thy flaming bolts unerring roll, And all the trembling globe control: 160 Thy seamen, invincibly true, No menace, no fraud, can subdue: To thy great trust Severely just, All dissonant strife they disclaim: To meet the foe, Their bosoms glow; Who only are rivals in fame.

CHORUS. Thy seamen, invincibly true, No menace, no fraud, can subdue: 170 All dissonant strife they disclaim, And only are rivals in fame.

For Edward tune your harps, ye Nine!

Triumphant strike each living string; For him, in ecstasy divine, Your choral Io Paeans sing!

For him your festive concerts breathe!

For him your flowery garlands wreath!

Wake! O wake the joyful song!

Ye Fauns of the woods, 180 Ye Nymphs of the floods, The musical current prolong!

Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain, To swell the grand chorus accord!

Ye Tritons, that sport on the main, Exulting, acknowledge your lord!

Till all the wild numbers combined, That floating proclaim Our Admiral's name, In symphony roll on the wind! 190

CHORUS. Wake! O wake the joyful song!

Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain, Ye Tritons, that sport on the main, The musical current prolong!

Oh, while consenting Britons praise, These votive measures deign to hear!

For thee my Muse awakes her lays, For thee the unequal viol plays, The tribute of a soul sincere.

Nor thou, ill.u.s.trious chief, refuse 200 The incense of a nautic Muse!

For ah! to whom shall Neptune's sons complain, But him whose arms unrivall'd rule the main?

Deep on my grateful breast Thy favour is imprest: No happy son of wealth or fame To court a royal patron came!

A hapless youth, whose vital page Was one sad lengthen'd tale of woe; Where ruthless fate, impelling tides of rage, 210 Bade wave on wave in dire succession flow; To glittering stars and t.i.tled names unknown, Preferr'd his suit to thee alone.

The tale your sacred pity moved; You felt, consented, and approved.

Then touch my strings, ye blest Pierian choir!

Exalt to rapture every happy line; My bosom kindle with Promethean fire; And swell each note with energy divine!

No more to plaintive sounds of woe 220 Let the vocal numbers flow!

Perhaps the chief to whom I sing May yet ordain auspicious days, To wake the lyre with n.o.bler lays, And tune to war the nervous string.

For who, untaught in Neptune's school, Though all the powers of genius he possess, Though disciplined by cla.s.sic rule, With daring pencil can display The fight that thunders on the watery way; 230 And all its horrid incidents express?

To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong; Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song!

CHORUS. To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong; Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song!