Loathed in life, scarce pardoned in the dust,
May hate pursue his sacrilegious lust;
Link'd with the fool who fired th' Ephesian dome,
Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb.
EROSTRATUS and Elgin e'er shall shine
In many a branding page and burning line.
Alike condemn'd, for aye to stand accursed,
Perchance the second viler than the first;
So let him stand, through ages yet unborn,
Fix'd statue on the pedestal of Scorn!
Though not for him alone revenge shall wait,
But fits thy country for her coming fate;
Her's were the deeds that taught her lawless son
To do what oft Britannia's self had done-
Look to the Baltic blazing from afar,
Your old ally yet mourns perfidious war—
Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,
Or break the compact which herself had made ;
Far from such councils, from the faithless field
She fled-but left behind her Gorgon shield,
A fatal gift, that turn'd your friends to stone,
And left lost Albion hated and alone.
"Look to the east, where Ganges' swarthy race Shall shake your tyrant empire to its base, Lo! there Rebellion rears her ghastly head, And glares the Nemesis of native dead, Till Indus rolls a deep purpureal flood,
And claims his long arrear of northern blood
So may ye perish-Pallas, when she gave
Your free born rights, forbade ye to enslave.
"Look on yon Spain, she clasps the hand she hates,
But coldly clasps, and thrusts you from her gates-
Bear witness, bright Barossa! thou can'st tell
Whose were the sons that bravely fought and fell—
But Lusitania, kind and dear ally!
Can spare a few to fight and sometimes fly;
Oh! glorious field! by famine fiercely won,
The Gaul retires for once, and all is done!
But when did Pallas teach that one retreat
Retrieved three long Olympiads of defeat.
"Look last at home-ye love not to look there,
On the grim smile of comfortless despair;
Your city saddens, loud though revel howls,
Here Famine faints, and yonder Rapine prowls ;
See all alike of more or less bereft-
No misers tremble when there's nothing left—
"Blest paper credit," who shall dare to sing?
It clogs like lead Corruption's weary wing;
Yet Pallas pluck'd each premier by the ear,
Who gods and men alike disdain'd to hear.
But one repentant o'er a bankrupt state,
On Pallas calls, but calls, alas! too late;
Then raves for Stanhope, to that Mentor bends,
Though he and Pallas never yet were friends,
Him senates hear, whom never yet they heard,
Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd-
So once of yore, each reasonable frog
Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign "Log"-
Thus hail'd your rulers their patrician clod,
As Egypt chose an onion for a god.
"Now fare ye well! enjoy your little hour,
Go grasp the shadow of your vanish'd power:
Gloss o'er the failure of each fondest scheme
Your strength a name, your bloated wealth a dream—
Gone is that gold, the marvel of mankind,
And pirates barter all that's left behind ;*
No more the hirelings, purchas'd near and far,
Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war;
The idle merchant, on the useless quay
Droops o'er the bales no bark
Or back returning sees rejected stores
Rob piecemeal on his own encumbered shores;
The starv'd mechanic breaks his rusting loom,
And desperate mans him 'gainst the common doom:
Then, in the senate of your sinking state,
Show me the man whose counsels may have weight, Vain is each voice, where tones could once command E'en factions cease to charm a factious land;
Yet jarring sects convulse a sister isle,
And light with maddening hands the mutual pile.
Tis done-'tis past-since Pallas warns in vain
The furies seize her abdicated reign .
Wide o'er the realm they wake their kindling brands,
And wring her vitals with their fiery hands.
But one convulsive struggle still remains,
And Gaul shall weep ere Albion wear her chains;
The banner'd pomp of war, the glittering files,
O'er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;
The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,
That bids the foe defiance e'er they come,
The hero bounding at his country's call,
The glorious death that decorates his fall,
Swell the young heart with visionary charms,
And bids it antedate the joys of arms;
But know a lesson you may yet be taught,
With death alone are laurels cheaply bought;
Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,
His day of mercy is the day of fight;
But when the field is fought, the battle won,
Though drench'd in gore, his woes are but begun.
His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name,
The slaughter'd peasant and the ravish'd dame,
The rifled mansion, and the foe-reap'd field
Ill suit with souls at home untaught to yield.
Say, with what eye along the distant down
Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?
How view the column of ascending flames,
Shake his red shadow o'er the startled Thames?
Nay, frown not Albion, for the torch was thine,
That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine:
Now, should they burst on thy devoted coast,
Go, ask thy bosom who deserves them most-
The law of heaven and earth is life for life,
And she who rais'd in vain regrets the strife."
LET Edinburgh critics o'erwhelm with their praises Their Madame de STAEL, and their fam'd L'EPI
Like a meteor at best, proud Philosophy blazes,
And the fame of a Wit is as brittle as glass:
But cheering's the beam, and unfading the splendour
Of thy torch, Wedded Love! and it never has yet
Shone with lustre more holy, more pure, or more
tender,
Than it sheds on the name of the fair LAVALETTE.
Then fill high the wine cup, e'en Virtue shall bless it, And hallow the goblet which foams to her name; The warm lip of Beauty shall piously press it,
And HYMEN shall honour the pledge to her fame:
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