POETRY. L ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1802. By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq. Poct-Laureat. O, from Bellona's crimson car At length the panting steeds unbound; At length the thunder of the war In festive shouts of peace is drown'd: Immortal glory's radiant form Her guiding load-star through the storm; Directed by whose golden ray, Through rocks and shoals she kept her steady way: My sons," she cries, "can honour's guerdon claim, "Unsoil'd my parent worth, unstain'd their sovereign's fame ?** Albion! though oft by dread alarms Thy native valour has been tried, Ne'er did the lustre of thy arms Shine forth with more refulgent pride Than when, while Europe's sons, dismay'd, But But when the howling whirlwinds rise, The hardy crew must to the raging wind In every clime where ocean roars, High though thy naval banners flew ; Thy armies swept the victor host, From veteran bands where British valour won, The lofty walls of Ammon's godlike son: Useless the danger and the toil To free each self-devoted soil, Auxiliar legions from thy side Recede to swell the Gallic conqueror's pride : While on Marengo's fatal plain, Faithful to honour's tie, brave Austria bleeds in vain. Not fir'd by fierce Ambition's flame, Did Albion's monarch urge his car To succour and protect his nobler aim. His guardian arm, while each Hesperian vale, The royal patriot sheaths th' avenging sword; ODE for his Majesty's BIRTH DAY, 1802. N° more the thunders of the plain, Terrific, drown the duteous strain That greets our monarch's natal hour; While grateful myriads in the pean join, By the Same, And hail her angel voice, and bless her form divine, Through many a whirlwind's blast severe, Still, still his flaming coursers rise, And spreads of light and heat the unextinguish'd tides. Glory's true sons, that hardy race, Who bravely o'er the briny flood, Smiling serene in danger's face, Uncheck'd by tempest, fire and blood, Britain's triumphant flag unfurl'd, The terror of the wat'ry world, Now freely to the fav'ring gale The genius of the sister isles On the rich heap exulting smiles, "Mine the prime stores of earth's remotest zone, "Her choicest fruits and flow'rs, her treasures all my own." Nor second you 'mid glory's radiant train, Who o'er the tented field your ensigns spread : Whether on Lincelles' trophied plain Before your ranks superior numbers fled; Or on Ierne's kindred coast Ye crush'd invasion's threat'ning host; Or on fam'd Egypt's sultry sands The banner tore from Gallia's vet'ran bands; To hoary sires and blooming maidens tell Of gallant chiefs who fought, who conquer'd, or who fell. Yet Yet in the arms of peace reelin'd, Or hostile inroad threat our shore, From labour's field, from commerce' wave, Around their patriot monarch's throne. May Concord spread her halcyon reign, Which sings th' auspicious morn to Britain ever dear. PROLOGUE to the First Part of Shakespeare's Henry the Fourth. Spoken in the Character of Falstaff, at Drury-Lane Theatre, by Mr. Stephen Kemble, whose remarkable Obesity precluded the Necessity of stuffing. FALSTAFF here to-night, by nature made, Lends to your favourite bard his pond'rous aid; No man in buckram he! no stuffing gear! No feather-bed-nor e'en a pillow-bier! But all good honest flesh and blood, and bone, And weighing, more or less, some thirty stone. Upon the Northern coast, by chance, we caught him, And no mail-coach on such a fare would venture: If not, to better men he'll leave his sack, } PROLOGUE to Urania, a Drama written by the Hon. Mr. SPENCER, and acted at Drury Lane with considerable Applause. T By the Right Hon. Lord JOHN TOWNSHEND. HO' rigid Truth in narrow bounds confine Tho' hence the cold philosopher may draw Not Not so the poet checks his bolder fires; Shall then fastidious spleen, with critic spite, And soon, cry these alarmists of the stage, With these, a flimsy, flippant tribe combineAuthors who blush to throw their pearls to swine; Vain of the triumphs of rejected plays, And talents, never mortified by praise: Humbly who vaunt, who haughtily confess |