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That day 's arriv'd, that fatal hour!--“ Hear us, o hear, Almighty Pow'r! "Our guide in counsel, and our strength in fight! 6. Now war's important die is thrown, " If left the day to man alone, " How blind is Wisdom, and how weak is Might?
V. « Let prostrate hearts, and awful fear, " And deep remorse, and sighs sincere 66 For Britain's guilt the wrath divine appease ; " A wrath more formidable far 6. Than angry Nature's wasteful war, " The whirl of tempests, and the roar of seas. 50
VI. " From out the deep to thee we cry, “ To thee, at Nature's helm on high! r Steer thou our conduct, dread Omnipotense! « To thee for succour we resort; « Thy favour is our only port; "Our only rock of safety thy defence.
VII. "O Thou! to whom the lions roar, “ And, not unheard, thy boon implore! " Thy throne our bursts of cạnnon loud invoke: 66 Thou can'st arrest the flying ball, " Or send it back, and bid it fall " On those from whose proud deck the thunder broke.
VIII. " Britain in vain extends her care « To climes remote * for aids in war; " Still farther must it stretch to crush the foe: “ There's one alliance, one alone, “ Can crown her arms, or fix her throne, " And that alliance is not found below.
“ Ally Supreme! we turn to thee;
50 “ With seas and winds, henceforth, thy laws fulfil; "s 'Tis thine our blood to freeze or warm,
To rouse or hush the martial storm, " And turn the tide of conquest at thy will.
X. "'Tis thine to beam sublime renown, " Or quench the glories of a crown; "'Tis thine to doom, 'tis thine from Death to free, " To turn aside his levell'd dart, “ Or pluck it from the bleeding heart :--“ There, we cast anchor, we confide in thee. 60
XI. " Thou! who hast taught the North to roar, " And streaming † lights nocturnal pour
Of frightful aspect! when proud foes invade, « Their blasted pride with dread to seize, “ Bid Britain's flags, as meteors, blaze, ! And George depute to thunder in thy stead.
*. The right alone is bold and strong; ** Black hov'ring clouds appal the wrong " With dread of vengeance.---Nature's awful Sire! 6. Less than one moment shouldst thou frown, 70 66 Where is Puissance and Renown? “ Thrones tremble, empires sink, or worlds expire.
« Let George the just chastise the vain.
A NAVAL LYRIC.
Written in imitation of
His Majesty's return from Hanover, Sept. 1729, and tbe
Monte decurrens velut amnis, imbres
PREFACE. A PINDARIC carries a formidable sound; but there is norbing formidable in the true nature of it, of which (wild utmost submission). I conceive the critics bave bilberto entertained a false idea. Pindar is as natural as Anacreon though not se familiar; as a fired star is as mucb in tbe bounds of nature as a flower of tbe field, tbough less obvious, and of greater dignity. This is not the received notion of Pindar: I shall iberefore soon support at large that bint which is now given.
Trade is a very noble subject in itself more proper than any for an Englishman, and particularly seasonable at this juncture,
We bave more specimens of good writinginevery provincelban in the sublime, our two famous epic poerns excepted. I was willing to make an attempt where I bad the fewest rivals.
jf, on reading this Ode, any man bas a ful'er idea of tbe real interest, or possible glory, of bis country than before, or a stronger impression from it, or a warmer concern for it, I give up to tbe critic any further reputation.
We bave e many copies and translations that pass for originals. This Ode, I bumbly conceive, is an original, though it professes imitation. No man can be like Pinder, by imitating any of bis particular works, any more than like Raphael, by copying the Cartoons. The genius and spirit of such great men must be collected from the wbole; and when thus we are possessed of it, we must erert its energy in subjects and designs of our own. Nothing is so unpindarical as following Pindar on the foot. Pindar is an original; and be must be so tuowbo would be like Pindar in tbat wbich is the greatest praise. No:bing' so unlike as a close copy and a noble original.
As for leng!h, l'indar has an unbroken ode of sir bundred lines. Notbing is long or short in writing, but relatively to the demand of lbe subject, and tbe manner of treating is. A disticb may be long, and a folio short. However, I bave broken this Ode into strains, each of which may be considered as a separate ode, if you please. And if the variety and fulness of matter be considered, I'am rather apprehensive of danger from brevi.y in this Ode, tban from lengib. But lank wriing is zubat l ibink ought most to be declined, if for nothing else, for our plenty of it.
The ode is tbe most spirited kind of poetry, and the Pindarick is the most spirited kind of ode. This I speak at my own very great peril; but truth has an eternal titie to our confession, ibougb we are sure to sufer by it.