'Infants in vain their trembling arms expand;

Lisping for life they fall, beneath the murd'rer's hand!

Ill-fated regions! doom'd a helpless prey,

Where'er th' Invader bent his blood-track'd way,
She whose compassion knows no selfish laws
Partakes thy griefs, and execrates their cause:
The open heart, the lib'ral hand may show,
ENGLAND can feel for LUSITANIA's woe*.
And thou, brave Prince, allow'd by fate to reach
In smiling hour Britannia's friendly beach;
GUSTAVUS! Thou, no more compell'd to roam,
Thy perils past, enjoy'st the wish'd-for home:
A home which ENGLAND grateful doth supply
To thee, her warmest, firmest, best Ally †.

* Alluding to the Subscription, in this Country, for the relief of the Portuguese, suffering from the atrocities committed by the French armies.

+ Since these lines were written, this gallant, but ill-fated,

Another comes! whom hostile regions bore!
A self-doom'd exile to fair ALBION's shore.

-O! thou, whose heart is dead to ev'ry tie
Of blood, of nature, or of sympathy,
Ruthless NAPOLEON! if thy harden'd brow
Shame ever visit, let it mantle now:

Now, when, compell'd thy fiend-like rage to fly,
Thy kindred e'en beneath an English sky

Seek shelter from a Brother's tyranny!

But ah! behold how chang'd the smiling scene;

What threat'ning clouds of sorrow intervene !
Ill-fated strangers! envious Fortune still

Treads on your steps, and marks your path with ill:

Monarch has quitted our shores. His object in so doing has not perhaps been ascertained: but, whithersoever he goes, the wishes of England and of Englishmen will be with him. On, brave Prince; "I pede fausto!"

For lo! where comes a dread prophetick band,

Denouncing death to this once happy Land!
Ah yes! farewell to safety and to fame,

Farewell to all which ENGLAND once could claim:

ENGLAND herself must fall! Too sure the blow;

For W

-N, WE, CT, tell us so!!!

Alas! so soon, ye patriot worthies, say,

Must all our Island's boasted strength decay? -Forbid it Heav'n! Nor let fair ENGLAND's peace

Be blasted by such enemies as these!

Dear native Land! where countless blessings shine,

Where ev'ry peasant bends at Freedom's shrine,

Reck not the clamour of this crafty few,

This serpent-tongued, this self-nam'd patriot crew:
Leave them to vent their patriotick gall,

To rant of ENGLAND's woes, and ENGLAND's fall;

Or let them, if so worthless in their eyes,

Quit the blest spot they know not how to prize!

Do thou, my Country, scorn their proffer'd cares; Thy fate is held in higher hands than their's.

And may that Pow'r which ev'ry act ordains,

That GOD who Heav'n and Sea and Earth sustains,
Long with benignant eye regard thy shore,

And shield thy warriors 'mid the battle's roar.
Thine be it still to check the Tyrant's hand,
To stand the champion of each injur❜d Land;
Proud to maintain thy Liberties*, thy Laws,
Untam'd, unbroken in a righteous cause;

* There are many worthy persons, who, though very little concerned for the true liberty of their country, have however the utmost respect for what is by several mistaken for it; I mean licentiousness, or a free power of abusing the King, the Ministry, and every thing great, noble, and solemn.

FIELDING.

To view thy conquering banners wide unfurl'd,

Thy commerce spread throughout th' admiring world;
Thine to excel in ev'ry art of Peace,

To see thy corn and wine and oil increase;
To clothe the naked, set the prisoners free,
Prompt at the call of soft humanity;

To sooth and heal affliction's rankling smart,
Raise up the fallen, bind the broken heart;
Abroad to VICTORY rear the trophied dome;

And bend to VIRTUE's hallow'd shrine at home..