iful air
He wrung from thy natives a tear;
But the justice and valour of Britain, e'en there,
Shook his legions, recoiling with fear.

Well-pleas'd with his crimes, the Fury, with flight,
To her empire safe wafted him o'er;
Whilst the spectres of Jaffa, with ghastly delight,
The murd'rer pursued to the shore.

Arriv'd, for his brow, lo! a turban she made,
Bright with gems pluck'd from Gallia's crown;
To give him a name, she Rome's hist'ry survey'd,
In the days of her early renown.

To embellish his guilt, or to soften its shade,
The Arts mournful captives she kept;
And the plund'rer and plunder of Europe display'd
To the wand'rer, who wonder'd and wept.

To support this apostate imperial shade,
This impious mock'ry of good,
She rais'd a banditti, to whom she convey'd
His spirit for plunder and blood.

The chiefs of the earth in a panic beheld
The flash of his sabre afar;
They enter'd, but pensively mov'd from the field,
And bow'd to this idol of war.

Till, fum'd with the incense of slavish applause,
O'er the globe's fairest portion he trod;
And, spurning its liberty, spirit, and laws,
Conceiv'd himself rais'd to a god.

But England disdain'd to the Tyrant to bend;
Still erect, undismay'd, she was found;
Infuriate, he swore that "his bolt should descend,"
And her temples should fall to the ground.

Yes, here, if his banner is destin'd to wave,
It shall float o'er her temples laid low,
O'er piles of her children, who, loyal and brave,
Such a victory never will know.

Oh! banish the thought; for, learn 'tis in vain,
Thus, thou maniac Tyrant, to boast;
As soon shall her base be remov'd by the main,
As her empire by thee and thy host.

The sound is gone forth, 'tis recorded above,
To the mountain it spread from the vale;
"Our God, and our King, and our Country, we love,
And for them we will die or prevail."

Then hasten the day, if thy threat be sincere,
Let the winds blow thy myriads along;
Then soon may thy boasted armada appear,
And our rocks catch thy death-breathing song.

Thy guardian, foul deity! hideous with crime,
Shall view, as she moves to our shore,
The Genius of Britain, mild, brave, and sublime,
And shall boast her achievements no more.

Oh! direful and strange will the contest appear,
Big with freedom to nations afar;
The good, who confide, and the guilty, who fear,
Shall join in the conflict of war.

In Heaven, with smil