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ODE for the New YEAR, 1807.
By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq. Poet-Laureat.

CHEN loud and drear the tempests roar,


And headlong 'gainst the rocky shore,

Driven by the blast, the giddy vessel flies;
Unguidel, by the wild waves borne,
Her rudder broke, her tackling torne,
Say, does the seaman's daring mind
Shrink from the angry frown of fate?
Does hie, to abject' fear resign’d,
Th' impending stroke in silence wait?
No—while le pours the fervent prayer
To Him whose will can punish or can spare,
Cool and intrepid ʼmid the sound
of winds and waves that rage around,
The powers that skill and strength impart,

The nervous arm, th' undaunted heart,
Collecting,-firm he fronts the threat’ning storm,
And braves, with fearless breast, fell Death's terrific fora :

So, though around our sea-encircled reigo,

The dreadful tempest seem to lower,
Dismay'd do Britain's hardy train

A wait in doubt the threat'ning hour ?
Lo! to his sons, with cheering voice,
Albion's bold Genius calls aloud :
Around him valiant myriads crowd,
Or death or victory their choice;
From ev'ry port astonish'd Europe sees
Britannia's white sails swelling with the breeze;
Not her imperial barks alone


Awe the proud foe on ev'ry side,
Commerce hier vessels launches on the tide,
And her indignant sons awhile
Seceding from their wonted toil,
Turn from the arts of Peace their care,

Hurl from each deck the bolts of war,
To sweep th' injurious boasters from the main,
Who dare to circumscribe Britannia's naval reign.

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And see with emulative zeal
Our hosts congenial ardour feel;
The ardent spirit, that of yore

Flam'd high on Gallia's vanquish'd shore ;
Or burn'd by Danube's distant flood,
When flow'd his current ting'd with Gallic blood;
Or shone on Lincelles' later fight :
Or fir'd by Acre's tow'rs the Christian Knight;
Or tauglit on Maida's fields the Gaul to feel,

Urgʻd by the Briton's arm, the British steel ;
Now in each breast with heat redoubled glows,
And gleams dismay and death on Europe's ruthless foes.


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Not to Ambition's specious charm,

Not to tl' ensanguin'd Despot's hand,
Is conquest bound-a mightier Arm

Than Earth's proud tyrants can withstand,
The balance holds of human fate,
Raises the low and sinks the great;

Exerting then in Europe's cause

Each energy of arm and mind,
All that from force or skill the warrior draws,

Yet to the Almighty power resigu'd,
Whose high behest all Nature's movements guides,

Controls the battle's and the ocean's tides ;
Britain still hopes that Heav'n her vows will hear,
While Mercy rears her shield, and Justice points her spear.

ODE for his MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 1807.
By Henry JAMES PYE, Esq. Poet-Laureat.

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Though round the tyrant's hated throne
Arm's legions form an iron zone,

They cannot blunt guilt's scorpion sting;
While Virtue's sacred shield is spread
O'er George's heav'n-protected head,

The Parent and the King.



[From Mr. R. P. Knight's Monody. ]

A ,

Abound in talents fit for common times;
Pageants of office, who with starch grimace
Display the garb of sense in pomp of face;
Who, wise in forms, to forms alone attend;
And, busy in the means, neglect the end ;
Who, in their little circle's narrow bound,
Think they move forward, while they're moving round
And, dreading innovation, still pursue
The beaten track, when all arouud is new.
Idols of court, and puppets of debate,
Awhile they deck the pantomime of state;
Like bubbles float upon the tide of power,
And shine the glittering meteors of an hour,
“But genius, choicest gift of favouring Heaven,
Once in a thousand years is scarcely given:
Pure mental essence, of celestial birth,
It rarely mixes wit: the dross of earth,
To show creation on a nobler plan,
And give the world Heaven's model of a man.
Before it Science, Art, and Learning bend ;
Through all at once its radiant lights extend;
Scoining the aids which humbler minds require,
li mounts spontaneous in electric fire;
Intuitively pierces each disguise,
And drags to light each truth that hidden lies;
In native energy serenely strong,
Pours the full tide of eloquence along;
Prepared alike in every mode to shine,

To guide a senate, or to point a line;
Empires to rule, and armies to direct,
Or metaphysic fallacies detect;


Aloft to soar on fancy's eagle wing,
Or dive self-taught in learning's deepest spring,
Gilding its tract with wisdom's purest ray,
Th'ethereal light of intellectual day.
“ Such light was thine, O FOX! in thee alone
With uudiminish'd splendor still it shone
From earliest youth, till life's expiring tiame
Reluctantly forsook thy waster frame,
Superior still to all-and e’en in death
Its brightness glimmer'd in thy parling breath : "
In life's last ebb the Statesman's wisdom flow'd ;
In thought's last gleam the Patriot's vigour glow'd;
Nor pain nor terror mov’d his steady mind;
The pain he felt was pity for mankind.”

“ No pomp of speech, in learning's garh array'd,
Dazzled the ignorant, the weak dismay'd
No pointed sentence of sarcastic wit

The unoffending or defenceles bit;
No proud display of what His mind contain'd
Abash'd the timid, or the meek restrain'd;
No gaudy rhetorick, with selfish aim,
In private converse, courted pubic fame ;
No quaint allusion, with ambiguous sense,
To blushing modesty e'er gave ofleuce;
No prim conceit, in foppish neatness dresi,
No hoarded repartee, or studied jest,
Slyly conceald, in watchful ambush lay
Till apt occasion prompted its display.
“ Above each trick of art His genius tower’d,
And intellect's full tide spontaneous pour'd;
To embellish truth with unforc'd effort songit:
With observation just and vigorous thought;
With sense profound, in richest fancy drest;
Witha learning's stores, in purest taste exprest ;
Deep and yet clear its copious currents rollid
Their amber waves o'er beds of native gold."

“ While o'er His tomb desponding millions moan,
Who iu His fale anticipate their own;
For him, though borne on an untimely bier,
Philosophy shall dry Affection's tear:
For what, alas! can length of days bestow,
But lengtheu'd misery and lengthen'd woe?


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