And hear the sound symphonious;-Fingal's form Gigantic, seated in the hall of shells, Imagination bodies to my sight. Of mild demeanour are the Scottish Dames, Nor uninform'd; more skill'd in useful arts, These fade and shrivel at the touch of Time; While those still shine, unconscious of decay, With added lustre to the close of life. Of different texture from their quondam Queen, Ill-starr'd Maria! whose untimely fate Obscur❜d the glories of Eliza's reign. Nurs'd in the bosom of luxurious Gaul, The all-accomplish'd Dame imbib'd the lore Of winning softness, of attractive smiles, And courtly graces;—while the mind produc'd A specious harvest of unwholesome weeds, That chok'd Religion's seed, and undermin'd The strength of Reason; neither purpose firm, Nor fix'd resolve, could harbour in a soul Dissolv'd in pleasures; in the net ensnar'd Temperate, but firm, should be the arm of Power; A friend to Peace, when Honour sheathes the sword But "lion mettled" when Britannia's weal Impels her warlike progeny to arms: Then let the Despot fear!-tho' million slaves, In martial panoply begird him round, Our free-born sons shall shake them to the winds! F THE TOCSIN; AN ADMONITORY AND DESCRIPTIVE POEM. FIRST PRINTED IN 1811. YET forty days! (prophetic Jonah cry'd) Yet forty days! and Nineveh's destroy'd !— Struck with the warning voice, her sons repent, Their hair dishevell'd, and their garments rent; The Monarch own'd th' Almighty's sentence just, And soil'd his purple mantle in the dust; Degrading sackcloth o'er his limbs was spread Repentant ashes sprinkled on his head. |