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ODE II.

INTENDED FOR THE

ANNIVERSARY OF THE HUMANE SOCIETY,

1808.

STROPHE.

AMID the savage yell of War

Ambition mounts her iron car,

The reeking sword, the wasteful brand,
Uprear'd in either frantic hand,-

While nations groan, and cities flame;
And wondering mortals call it fame!

ANTISTROPHE.

And shall the savage yell of war—
And shall Ambition's iron car,-
The reeking sword-the flaming brand,
Alone the pealing shout command?
Alone the palm of triumph claim?

While deeds of Mercy lose their name?

EPODE.

No, Britain, no!-tho firm of heart,
Prepar'd to act the Patriot's part,

Thy mailed bosom glow ;-
Prepar'd, where dangers most abound,
To deal the iron tempest round,

And crush the vauntful foe;—

Tho long, in high heroic strain,
Trafalgar's cape and Maida's plain

Shall every tongue employ ;

Yet shall thy bounding heart proclaim, How dearer-nobler is the fame

To save than to destroy.

Then stay, awhile, thy vengeful hand, Unhelm thy threatening brow,

While high to heaven a grateful band Prefer the fervid vow ;

The fervid vow for life renew'd,

By Hawes's pious care ;

Pale victims once, by Fate pursu'd,
Or goaded by Despair!

Behold the Sire-the Husband dear,

To kindred bliss restor'd!

The Wife-the babe, whom many a tear
Had else in vain deplor'd.-

The agile Youth-the Maid belov'd-
The Sister, Brother, Friend!-

All, all, (to holy rapture mov'd!)
In grateful chorus blend.-

That grateful chorus, heard on high,
Shall reach the Sapphire throne;
And the wing'd warriors of the sky
Shall make thy cause their own.
Then lift again thy mighty hand!

Advance the dauntless breast!

For Heaven's own arm shall guard the land That Charity has blest,

ODE III.

TO EDWARD RUSHTON,.

OF LIVERPOOL,

On his Restoration to Sight, after a Blindness of upwards of Thirty Years, by a series of Operations performed by Mr. Gibson, of Manchester.

1.

AND does again the orient day,
Pour for my friend the visual ray,

And gild the vernal scene?

Does Nature, in her Iris vest,
Again dilate his bounding breast,

And wave her robe of green?

2.

Does she, in linear pomp array'd And varied charm of light and shade, Her pictur'd world renew?

And joys of long extinguish'd sense, As from the bursting grave, dispenseRe-kindling to his view?

3.

How beats my heart in transport high, How swell the dew-drops of the eye, The joyful tale to hear!

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Oh! as the visions round thee roll,

That cheer'd thy once accustom'd soul In daily pomp array'd,—

Say, if not now, with keener zest,

They glad thy long benighted breast? Re-merging from the shade!

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