Rais'd up to sway the World, to do, undo, With mighty Nations for his Underlings, The great events with which old story rings Seem vain and hollow; I find nothing great; Nothing is left which I can venerate; So that almost a doubt within me springs Of Providence, such emptiness at length Seems at the heart of all things. But, great G.o.d!

I measure back the steps which I have trod, And tremble, seeing, as I do, the strength Of such poor Instruments, with thoughts sublime I tremble at the sorrow of the time.

23. _TO THE MEN OF KENT_.

October, 1803.

Vanguard of Liberty, ye Men of Kent, Ye Children of a Soil that doth advance It's haughty brow against the coast of France, Now is the time to prove your hardiment!

To France be words of invitation sent!

They from their Fields can see the countenance Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance.

And hear you shouting forth your brave intent.

Left single, in bold parley, Ye, of yore, Did from the Norman win a gallant wreath; Confirm'd the charters that were yours before;-- No parleying now! In Britain is one breath; We all are with you now from Sh.o.r.e to Sh.o.r.e:-- Ye Men of Kent, 'tis Victory or Death!

24.

October, 1803.

Six thousand Veterans practis'd in War's game, Tried Men, at Killicranky were array'd Against an equal Host that wore the Plaid, Shepherds and Herdsmen.--Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry thundering down his mountain-road Was stopp'd, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies. 'Twas a day of shame For them whom precept and the pedantry Of cold mechanic battle do enslave.

Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!

Like conquest would the Men of England see; And her Foes find a like inglorious Grave.

25. _ANTIc.i.p.aTION_.

October, 1803.

Shout, for a mighty Victory is won!

On British ground the Invaders are laid low; The breath of Heaven has drifted them like snow, And left them lying in the silent sun, Never to rise again!--the work is done.

Come forth, ye Old Men, now in peaceful show And greet your Sons! drums beat, and trumpets blow!

Make merry, Wives! ye little Children stun Your Grandame's ears with pleasure of your noise!

Clap, Infants, clap your hands! Divine must be That triumph, when the very worst, the pain, And even the prospect of our Brethren slain, Hath something in it which the heart enjoys:-- In glory will they sleep and endless sanct.i.ty.

26.

November, 1803.

Another year!--another deadly blow!

Another mighty Empire overthrown!

And we are left, or shall be left, alone; The last that dares to struggle with the Foe.

'Tis well! from this day forward we shall know That in ourselves our safety must be sought; That by our own right hands it must be wrought, That we must stand unpropp'd, or be laid low.

O Dastard whom such foretaste doth not chear!

We shall exult, if They who rule the land Be Men who hold its many blessings dear, Wise, upright, valiant; not a venal Band, Who are to judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand.

_NOTES to the FIRST VOLUME_

_NOTES_.

NOTE I.

PAGE I (9).--_To the Daisy_. This Poem, and two others to the same Flower, which the Reader will find in the second Volume, were written in the year 1802; which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of the expressions, they bear a striking resemblance to a Poem (lately published) of Mr. Montgomery, ent.i.tled, a Field Flower. This being said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot however help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets.

'Though it happe me to rehersin-- That ye han in your freshe song is saied, Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied, Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour.'

NOTE II.

PAGE 35 (43); line 13.--

".... persevering to the last, From well to better."

'For Knightes ever should be persevering To seek honour without feintise or slouth Fro wele to better in all manner thing.'

CHAUCER:--_The Floure and the Leafe_.

NOTE III.

PAGE 37 (45).--_The Horn of Egremont Castle_. This Story is a c.u.mberland tradition; I have heard it also related of the Hall of Hutton John an ancient residence of the Huddlestones, in a sequestered Valley upon the River Dacor.

NOTE IV.

PAGE 58 (64).--_The Seven Sisters_. The Story of this Poem is from the German of FREDERICA BRUN.

NOTE V.

Page 63 (71); line 6.--

".... that thy Boat May rather seem To brood on air," _&c. &c._