Читать книгу Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin - Various - Страница 28
ОглавлениеNo. X.
Jan. 15, 1798.
For the two following poems we are indebted to unknown correspondents. They could not have reached us at a more seasonable period.
The former, we trust, describes the feelings common to every inhabitant of this country. The second, we know too well, is expressive of the sentiments of our enemies.
LINES,
WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1797.
Loud howls the storm along the neighbouring shore;
Britain indignant hears the frantic roar:
Her generous sons pour forth on every side,
Firm in their country’s cause—their country’s pride!
See wild Invasion threats this envied land:
Swift to defend her, springs each Social Band:
Her white rocks echoing to their cheerful cry,
“God and our King!”—“England and Victory!”
Yes! happy Britain, on thy tranquil coast
No trophies mad Philosophy shall boast!
Though thy disloyal sons, a feeble band,
Sound the loud blast of treason through the land;
Scoff at thy dangers with unnatural mirth,
And execrate the soil which gave them birth;
With jaundiced eye thy splendid triumphs view,
And give to France the palm to Britain due:
Or,—when loud strains of gratulation ring,[34]
And lowly bending to the Eternal King,
Thy Sovereign bids a nation’s praise arise
In grateful incense to the fav’ring skies—
Cast o’er each solemn scene a scornful glance,
And only sigh for ANARCHY and France.
Yes! unsupported Treason’s standard falls,
Sedition vainly on her children calls,
While Cities, Cottages, and Camps contend,
Their King, their Laws, their Country to defend.[35]
Raise, Britain, raise thy sea-encircled head;
Round the wide world behold thy glory spread;
Firm as thy guardian oaks thou still shalt stand,
The dread and wonder of each hostile land;
While the dire fiends of discord idly rave,
And, mad with anguish, curse the severing wave.
Queen of the OCEAN, lo! she smiles serene,
’Mid the deep horrors of the dreadful scene;
With heartfelt piety to Heav’n she turns—
From Heav’n the flame of British courage burns—
She dreads no power but His who rules the ball,
At whose “great bidding” empires rise and fall;
In Him, on peaceful plain, or tented field,
She trusts, secure in His protecting shield—
Gallia, thy threats she scorns—Britain shall never yield.
An Englishwoman.
TRANSLATION OF THE NEW SONG
OF THE
“ARMY OF ENGLAND”.
WRITTEN BY THE CI-DEVANT BISHOP OF AUTUN.[36]
WITH NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR.
Good Republicans all,
The Directory’s call
Invites you to visit John Bull;
Oppress’d by the rod
Of a King, and a God,[37]
The cup of his misery’s full.
Old Johnny shall see
What makes a man FREE;
Not parchments, nor Statutes on Paper;
And stripp’d of his riches,
Great Charter, and breeches,
Shall cut a FREE Citizen’s caper.
Then away, let us over
To Deal, or to Dover—
We laugh at his talking so big;
He’s pamper’d with feeding,
And wants a sound bleeding—
Par Dieu! he shall bleed like a pig!
John, tied to the stake,
A grand baiting will make,
When worried by mastiffs of France;
What Republican fun,
To see his blood run,
As at Lyons, La Vendée, and Nantz![38]
With grape-shot discharges,
And plugs in his barges,
With National Razors good store,
We’ll pepper and shave him,
And in the Thames lave him—
How sweetly he’ll bellow and roar!
What the villain likes worse,
We’ll vomit his Purse,
And make it the guineas disgorge;
For your Raphaels and Rubens
We would not give two-pence;
Stick, stick to the pictures of George.
No Venus of stone,
But of good flesh and bone,
Will do for a true Democrat;
When weary with slaughter,
With John’s Wife and Daughter,
We’ll join in a little chit-chat.
The Shop-keeping hoard,
The Tenant and Lord,
And the Merchants,[39] are excellent prey:
At our cannon’s first thunder,
Rape, pillage, and plunder
The Order shall be of the day.
French fortunes and lives,
French daughters and wives,
Have five honest men to defend ’em!
And Barras and Co.
When to England we go,
Will kindly take John’s in commendam.
