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(To the March in Scipio.) Written when the News arrived.

OLL for the brave!

The brave that are no more!
All funk beneath the wave,
Faft by their native shore!

Eight hundred of the brave,
Whofe courage well was tried,
Had made the veffel heel,
And laid her on her fide.

A land breeze fhook the shrouds,
And he was overfet ;

Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.

Toll for the brave!

Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle;

No tempeft gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak;
She ran upon no rock.

His fword was in its sheath;
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down
With twice four hundred men.

Weigh the veffel up,

Once dreaded by our foes!

And mingle with our cup

The tear that England owes.

Her timbers yet are found,

And she may float again

Full charged with England's thunder,

And plough the distant main.

But Kempenfelt is gone,

His victories are o'er;

And he and his eight hundred

Shall plough the wave no more.

Sept. 1782.

IN SUBMERSIONEM NAVIGII, CUI GEOR

GIUS REGALE NOMEN, INDITUM.

LANGIMUS fortes.

Periêre fortes,

Patrium propter periêre littus

Bis quatèr centum; subitò fub alto
Æquore merfi.

Navis, innitens lateri, jacebat,
Malus ad fummas trepidabat undas,
Cùm levis, funes quatiens, ad imum
Depulit aura.

Plangimus fortes.

Nimis, heu, caducam

Fortibus vitem voluêre Parcæ,

Nec finunt ultrà tibi nos recentes

Nectere laurus,

Magne, qui nomen,
qui nomen, licèt incanorum,
Traditum ex multis atavis tulifti!
At tuos olim memorabit ævum
Omne triumphos.

Non hyems illos furibunda merfit,
Non mari in clauso scopuli latentes,
Fiffa non rimis abies, nec atrox
Abftulit enfis.

Navitæ fed tum nimium jocofi

Voce fallebant hilari laborem,

Et quiefcebat, calamoque dextram im-
pleverat heros.

Vos, quibus cordi eft grave opus piumque,
Humidum ex alto fpolium levate,
Et putrefcentes fub aquis amicos
Reddite amicis!

Hi quidem (fic Dîs placuit) fuêre:
Sed ratis, nondùm putris, ire poffit
Rurfus in bellum, Britonumque nomen
Tollere ad aftra.

SONG. ON PEACE.

Written in the Summer of 1783, at the Request of Lady Auften, who gave the Sentiment.

Air-" My fond shepherds of late," &c.

O longer I follow a found;

No longer a dream I pursue:
O happiness! not to be found,
Unattainable treasure, adieu!

I have fought thee in splendour and dress,
In the regions of pleasure and taste;
I have fought thee, and feem'd to poffefs,
But have proved thee a vision at last.

An humble ambition and hope

The voice of true wisdom inspires; "Tis fufficient, if Peace be the scope,

And the fummit of all our defires.

Peace may be the lot of the mind
That seeks it in meekness and love;
But rapture and blifs are confined
To the glorified spirits above.

SONG.

Also written at the Request of Lady Auften.

Air-" The Lafs of Pattie's Mill."

HEN all within is peace,

How nature feems to fmile!

Delights that never cease

The livelong day beguile.

From morn to dewy eve

With open hand she showers

Fresh bleffings to deceive,

And foothe the filent hours.

It is content of heart

Gives nature power to please;
The mind that feels no fmart

Enlivens all it fees;

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