TEMPEST AND WAR, OR THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR. ODE

I fain would sing of victory;
But know, the God of harmony,
Dispenser of renown,
For fortune’s turn has little care,
And bids superior valour bear,
Alone, the immortal crown.

See in his temple, shining yet,
Those at Thermopylæ who set
Of manly fortitude
Examples rare, or ’neath thy wall
Who, sad Numantia, shared thy fall,
But falling unsubdued.

There are to whom has fate bestow’d
The lot, that always on the road
Of docile laurels borne,
Success should fly their steps before,
And in their hands events in store
Should lose each cruel thorn.

As heroes these the vulgar choose,
If not as gods, but I refuse
Such homage for the mind;
And in Bellona’s doubtful strife,
Where fortune’s angry frowns are rife,
There heroes seek to find.

O! true of heart, and brave as true!
Illustrious Clio, turn thy view
Afar the vast seas o’er;
For deeds, in spite of fate abhorr’d,
Than these more worthy to record
Ne’er pass’d thy view before.

To abase the wealthy Gades, see,
From haunts of deep obscurity,
The fellest Fury rise!
And from her direful hand launch’d forth,
Transform’d the forests of the North,
She floating walls supplies.

Her envy is the city fair
Of Hercules, so proudly there,
Couch’d on the Atlantic gates;
Girt by the sea, that from the west
Comes fraught with gold, and her behest
Before her bending waits.

With venal aid of hate assists
Unfruitful England, throne of mists,
Whose fields no sun behold;
Which Flora with false smile has clad
In sterile green, where flowers look sad,
And love itself is cold.

Greedy the poison gold to seize,
They with the monster Avarice,
The peace of Spain abhor;
And by their horrid arts increased,
Turn ev’n the treasures of the East
To instruments of war.

Their proud Armada, which the main
Tosses to heaven, or threats in vain
To engulf, they mustering show:
Ye suffer it not, ye pupils brave
Of the Basans, and to the wave
Launch yours to meet the foe.

As by conflicting winds close driven,
The dark clouds o’er the vault of heaven
Across each other fly;
And troubling mortals with the roar,
The electric fluids flashing o’er
Dispute the sway on high,

So from both sides the battle roll’d,
The sails their wings of flame unfold,
And ship to ship they close;
Combined, O! day of hapless fame,
Four elements with man proclaim
The unequal war that rose.

Who in the whirlwind of dense smoke,
To Mars that in fit incense woke,
From hollow ordnance sent,
With iron flames, a countless host,
Sounds that unhinging shaking cross’d
The eternal firmament,—

Who in that lake of fire and blood,
Midst crashing masts and raging flood
Of havoc and its train,—
Who by the light the picture shows,
May not your blood-stain’d brows disclose,
O! noble chiefs of Spain?

With crimson dyed, or with the brand
Of sulphurous powder, firm ye stand,
As in the conflict dire,
The sacrilegious giants rear’d,
Serene the shining gods appear’d,
Midst rolling clouds of fire.

Shouts forth your courage hoarsely high
Bellona’s metal roar, the cry
The combat to inflame;
Nor fear ye mortals, when ye view
The streams of blood the waves imbue,
Your prowess that proclaim.

With iron clogg’d the air, the breath
Is drawn each with a dart of Death,
Whose skeleton immense
Rises exulting o’er the scene,
To see such fury rage, and glean
His devastation thence.

O! how he crops youth’s fairest flowers,
Or grief o’er life for ever lowers!
See there for vengeance strains
One arm for one that off is torn,
Or when away the head is borne,
Erect the trunk remains.

But, ah! what fiery column broke
There to the wind, and mid dense smoke
Then to the abyss down threw
Heads, bodies, arms and woods confused,
And hands yet with the swords unloosed
They for their country drew!

Struck by the sound groans Trafalgar;
Olympus shakes as in the war
The savage Titans waged,
When through the waves their forges roll’d
Ætna, Vesuvius, and untold
Volcanoes burning raged.

Trembling the monsters of the deep
Against each other beating, sweep
Off to the Herculean Strait;
In horror heaven is clouded o’er,
Lashing the seas the north winds roar,
In shame infuriate.

Of its own rage, the foaming brine,
Is born the tempest, fearful sign
Of more disastrous night;
Mars at the view restrains his cry;
Bark Scylla and Charybdis high,
The fiends whom wrecks delight.

Swift as a thunderbolt ye come,
The unhappy relics to consume
Of fire, ye winds and waves!
O, Night! who may thy fearfulness,
Thy vast amount of woes express,
Without the tear it craves!

Yield to the cruel element
At length the ships, that long unbent
Its haughtiest rage defied;
Men sink yet living, and for e’er
Closes o’er them their sepulchre,
The insatiable tide.

Save him, Minerva! who around
From East to West, the earth’s wide bound,
Was happier once thy care!
Urania, this thy votary save!
O, Love! how many fond hearts crave
That one’s last sigh to share!

Some to their much-loved country swim,
That horror-struck retires, and dim
In quicksands seems to fly;
Hid by the waves them death unveils,
And to the wreck’d-worn seamen’s wails
They only fierce reply.

Never may Time, in his long flight,
Join day more terrible and night:
But who in such a strife,
Who constant overcame such fate,
Where may we danger find so great
For dauntless heart in life?

O, Clio! where? yet midst that rage,
With golden pen and deathless page,
Thou lovest the brave to greet;
Gravina, Alava, each name
Write, and Escanio’s, echoes fame
Olympic will repeat.

And others, but my voice repels
The love that in my memory dwells;
O, Cosmo! hard thy lot!
O, Muses! him the laurels give,
Whose friend is only left to live,
And weep him unforgot.

Tried adverse fortune to endure,
Your valour proved sublime and pure,
O, Mariners of Spain!
Your life your country’s shield and strength,
Defended and avenged at length,
She will be yet again.

The Lion and the Eagle yet
May have them Neptune’s arm abet,
Now England’s slave and boast;
Who from her lofty poops shall view
Your troops resistless pouring through
In torrents on her coast.

Suffice it now, as tribute paid,
Her great Chief’s death; the Thames to shade,
Doubling with grief her gloom:
That cover’d thus with honour’d scars,
She sees you wait, in happier wars,
The combat to resume.

Ye go, as on the Libyan shore
The lion walks, that fiercely tore
The hunter’s cunning snare;
That not ingloriously o’erborne,
Calmly and fear’d, though bleeding, worn—
Regains his sandy lair.