With specious art aerial codes prepare,
And in the senate stretch the stygian snare;
The infernal magic spell her palsied voice,
Perplex'd-confounded, 'midst a maze of choice;
Whilst all without to heights anarchial wrought,
The pomp of passion, or the pride of thought,
Till vulgar councils sit in bold debate,

And votes plebeian awe the wayward state,
Then factious fires the impassion'd heart might feel,
And rage delirious with fantastic zeal.

Till civil fury give the impious blow,

And brother's blood in mingling currents flow!
Till kindred carnage heap the humid vale,
And loathed effluvia taint the passing gale:
But days so dire no son of thine shall see,
So George resolves, and such is heaven's decree.
O! precious offspring of the queen of Isles,
Nursed in the sunbeam of thy mother's smiles.

Henceforth no vulgar tongue profanely dare
The bench to dictate or control the bar!
On adamantine base the Judge shall stand,
And deal out justice with a fearless hand;
Each villain's heart the dread tribunals awe,
And nature's sanctions form the sageful law,
The sovereign's fiat guide the policed poise,
As life grows social, and new interests rise.
Through the mixt mazes of contingent cause
Dart the keen glance and spirit all the laws.
The state's great genius, whose magnific soul
Conducts, protects, and constitutes the whole.

Hail, times illustrious! blissful era, hail! When patriot princes hold the public scale, With eye judicious range the walks of state, From the coarse peasant to the purpled great.

Shall base-born faction, nurtured up in crimes, Malign the laws, or fault the halcyon times? Against the throne uprear the factious brand, And bid the vulgar madden round the land? With black illusion pest the public ear, And spread his spells infectious demon here? Still o'er thy realms, paternal prince, preside, The sovereign reason, and thy people's guide.

Aloft in air the golden standards play, Standards erst spread to many a glorious day, When Britain's host the illustrious Marlborough led, When Tallard yielded, or when Berwick bled, Standards, no hostile hand shall dare profane, Nor e'er be trampled on the carnaged plain, Their sacred shade the soldier's soul inspires, Nerves his whole heart, and kindles all his fires. The embattled war to martial music moves Through long known vales, and oft frequented groves, To the clift skirt coast that girds fair Albion's reign, On whose broad margin swells the ambient main.

Here the big heart is seen to breathe a sigh,
And the salt tear to scald the soldier's eye;
Not that his sire betrays a parent's pangs,
Or round his neck the spoused virgin hangs ;
To these, to all, he freely bids adieu,
But every fear, Columbia, is for you.

*

For you he braves the storm, with dauntless soul,
Sees the surge burst, or mountain billow roll,
Through the long voyage unnumber'd perils past
Safely he makes Cape Breton's coast at last:
Ah! Lewis, start, dire dreams thy sleep invade,
Here falls thy favorite, here thy lilies fade.
A mint of cost in vain her ramparts rear'd,
And her proud walls thy best battalions guard.
Thy name, presumptuous prince, in vain she wears,
And heaves her haughty bulwarks to the stars.
Her period 's come, now shines the fated day,
When all her glories in the dust shall lay.
But ah! what havock strews her stormy shore,
And floats her flowery fields with floods of gore?
Ere the last gasp, ere the decisive groan,
When British valor wins the important town.

Ye youth, who glorious to the battle bled,
And you by fate to future fame decreed,
Now from the roving corsair's ravage free,
The rich fraught vessels course the peaceful sea;
On the broad bank the fisher feels no fear,
New Albion thanks ye with a grateful tear.

"You whom the duties of the day can spare, In manly mirth the grateful banquet share,

*

Nor bids your chief refrain the rustic's toil,
What generous victor stains his hands with spoil?
A deed so base may suit the armed slave,
But piteous pillage misbecomes the brave."
The general thus, the troops in shouts reply,
The echoing plaudit thunders to the sky.

The genial supper spreads the unsullied green,
The bowl convivial crowns the festive scene.
In pleasing talk the guiltless eve they pass,
In social circles on the fragrant grass,
Till soft each eye salubrious slumbers close,
They sink unconscious in serene repose.
No dreary dream, nor morphean dozes steep
The soldiers' senses in abortive sleep.
Soon as the cheerly goddess of the morn
From her light pinion sheds the silver dawn,
Each placid brow the kind oblivion flies,
And fresh as day the invigor'd warriors rise.

*

AN INTENDED INSCRIPTION FOR THE MONUMENT ON BEACON-HILL, IN BOSTON.

WHERE stretch'd your sail, beneath what foreign sky Did lovelier landscape ever charm your eye?

Could fancy's fairy pencil, stranger! say,

E'en dipt in dreams, a nobler scene pourtray?

Behold yon vales, whose skirts elude your view,
And mountains fading to aerial blue !
Along their bowery shades how healthy toil
Alternate sports, or tends the mellow soil.
See rural towns 'mid groves and gardens rise,
And eastward,-where the stretching ocean lies,
Lo! our fair capital sublimes the scene,
New Albion's pride, and ocean's future queen;
How o'er the tradeful port august she smiles,—
Her sea-like haven boasts an hundred isles,
When hardy commerce swell the lofty sails
O'er arctic seas, and mocks the polar gales;
Thence tides of wealth the wafting breezes bring,
And hence e'en culture feels its vital spring.

These scenes our sires from rugged nature wrought,
Since what dire wars their patriot race have fought!
Witness yon tract, where first the Briton bled,
Driven by our youth redoubted Percy fled :

There Breed ascends, and Bunker's bleeding steeps,
Still o'er whose brow abortive victory weeps;
What trophies since! the gaze of after times,
Rear'd freedom's empire o'er our happy climes!

But hence, fond stranger, take a nobler view,
See yon shorn elm,* whence all these glories grew.
Here, where the armed foe presumptuous trod,
Trampled our shrines, and even mouth'd our God,
His vengeful hand, deep as the parent root,
Lopt each grown branch, and every suckling shoot;
Because beneath her consecrated shade
Our earliest vows to liberty were paid.

High from her altar blew the heaven-caught fire,
While all our wealth o'erhung the kindling pyre.
How at the deed the nations stood aghast,
As on the pile our plighted lives we cast!

O! if an alien from our fair domains,
The blood of Britain, hapless, taint your veins,
Pace o'er that hallow'd ground with awful tread,
And tears, atoning, o'er yon relic shed;
But if, American! your lineage springs,
From sires, who scorn the pedigree of kings,
A Georgian born, you breathe the tepid air,
Or on the breezy banks of Delaware,

Or hardy Hampshire claim your haughty birth,
Revere yon root, and kiss its nurturing earth:
O be its fibres fed by flowing springs,

Whence rose our empire o'er the thrones of kings:
E'en now descend, adore the dear remain,

Where first rear'd liberty's illumin'd fane.

There all her race, while time revolves, shall come,
As pilgrims flock to Mecca's idol'd tomb.

ON WASHINGTON'S VISIT TO BOSTON. 1789.

DID human eye e'er see so fair a day?
Behold thy genius, freedom, lead the way.
Rude kings of old did Russian armies wait,
And swell with barb'rous port the pomp of state.

*The stump of liberty tree.

While the proud car, bedeck'd with guilty gold,
On freedom's writhing neck triumphant roll'd.
The nobles proud, who led the gorgeous train,
Wore slavery's badge and drew a gilded chain,
While the loud shouts which pierced the troubled air,
The tongue of nations, only thrilled with fear.
The eye adoring, scarce could check its flow,
For all their trophies swell'd but human wo.
The paths of triumph thus the nations trod,
And thought the sovereign power derived from God.
Hence o'er the historic roll what hateful crimes
Were wrought, the model of succeeding times.
But now fair liberty illumes the age,

And reason tints renown's recording page,
Blots from her eye the fierce barbarian's name,

And even Cæsar blurs the page of fame.

Who wrought the wond'rous change? what power divine? The wond'rous change, O Washington! was thine. 'Tis thine own era graced the radiant page,

The fostering parent of a filial age.

Thou too, illustrious Hancock, by his side
In every lowering hour of danger tried,
With him conspicuous o'er the beamy page,
Descend the theme of every future age.
When first the sword of early war we drew,
The king presaging fix'd his eye on you.

"T was your dread finger press'd the sacred seal,
Whence rose to sovereign power the public weal
Then, Washington! Oh dearly honor'd name,
From callow youth the favorite of fame,
When hovering navies, haughty Albion's boast,
Pour'd her dread armies o'er our trembling coast,
Your country beck'd you from the rural bower,
And nerved your mighty arm with all her power.
The tyrant saw, and sickening at the view,
In fancy bade his frantic hopes adieu.
But urged by fate, still bade his armies dare,
Blew the vain trump, and waged abortive war.
At length you drew the tyrant from his throne,
And bade his seal your course of glory crown.
When polish'd wisdom seem'd her seats to fly,
On thee again the public cast her eye.
How rose the model from your forming hand!
The proud palladium of our happy land.

Ah! gentle parent of the cradled states,
On whose fond eye an infant nation waits,
While now affection seems your steps to stay,

And swarming concourse checks your laboring way;