Classic Poem

W ITH early dawn all meet in full Divan,
The means of future self defence to plan,
In Asiatic Pomp to Council go
Their Senses wildering midst Gaud and Show.
External objects seizing on the mind
When abstract judgment calmly aims to find
In mental stores thoughts meet for Crisis high,
All fit Ideas chased by others through the Eye!
Here silken Net-works tinge the rays of day,
There perfumed Fountains round th' apartment play.
The open Colonnades wide Gardens face,
Between each Interstice, each cooling space,
Tall fragrant shrubs their vivid scents pour out,
More rich than those the copious fountains spout.
The A MACANTH and clustering C USSO twine,
Their Fragrance mingle and their hues combine.
Thus spring, whilst idly-Eye and Ear they feast,
The vain State Counsels of th' enervate East.
With Cedar heavy and intrinsic gold
The doors for Ghezar gradually unfold,
And, as the sounding valves are forced apart,
On the caught vision beauteous Vistas dart.
As bright Arcades diverge in different lines,
In graceful curves their mellow brightness shines.
Strain'd through pellucid walls come floods of light,
The beauteous Spar all Sun-beam to the sight,
Of neighbouring Syrian Fossil sweetly framed,
Half Marble, and half Gem, Phengites named.
Though slight Pilasters hung with flowrets rose
To break at intervals the eye's repose,
No added tint the flowers the shafts display,
All was Phengites all inherent ray!
No part whose gloom requires the window's aid,
Or Aperture is anywhere displayed,
Yet means of access close set tubes conceal,
Through which air's healthful breezes freely steal.
Fortune's famed Temple, rais'd in ancient Rome,
Thus built, thus dazzled those who sought their doom.
Before the town, and near the lofty scite
Whence the Camp's glitter seized upon the sight,
A cord of minor mountains edge the plain
And form with blushing vines a purple chain.
Their surfaces all animate appear
Whilst dwell the Council on their Hope or Fear.
B EDUINES and C OPIS , and D RUZES , A RABS , stand
To see whom Fate makes Masters of the land,
To mark which beaten foe submits to flight,
That there the fury of their arms may light.
Then will their shining Sabres quickly start,
And Daggers merciless seek each a heart.
Fierce on the fainting troops they'll downward fly,
To purchase credit in the Victor's eye,
Swell the proud triumph of his conquering name,
Partake the booty and enhance his fame!
An Arab D ERVIS Bonaparte now sent
To ask that War its horrors might relent!
Without the walls in rank corruption lay
The gallic dead of many an added day.
Column on Column still unburied there
Made rife with Pestilence th' infectious air,
And Bonaparte demanded of the Chief
To grant, t'immure the dead, a short relief.
Enamour'd of themselves, each strove to shine,
With flimsy art weak arguments they twine,
The Yes the No in every light was placed,
By Reason tortured, or by Brilliance graced.
At length was summon'd to the gorgeous Hall
The English Leader, prompt t'obey a call
When deeds of Mercy were to be resolved,
And generous actions in debate revolved.
Anger had pause, wild Altercation rest,
Silence on every lip his finger pressed.
Amidst an Islam's prince's stern Divan
He, first instructed how the current ran,
Found means t'impart rules from another law
Of Faith than their's that sprang by cruel War.
Wonder'd, where Duties were so clear and plain
Debate a moment could its wiles maintain,
Enforced that, all prepared, due time be given
For acts becoming man, approved by Heaven.
Each thought was cogent, for his Feelings glowed
As mercy's Policy he clearly showed,
For those within Infection had not spared,
In numerous eyes delirious fever glared.
The Syrians yield, for none are so obtuse
His reasons move not, they decree the Truce.
Lo! whilst the Dervis stood in the Divan,
There summon'd to receive th' adjusted plan,
E'en whilst the peaceful Flag of Truce he bore!
Th' astonish'd Council hear the Cannon's roar,
Feel falling Shells the flat roofs o'er them shake,
And Syria's welfare is again at stake,
As those, who wish'd war's Horrors might relent!
Athwart the Breach in strengthen'd numbers went,
In hopes their Vengeance they, at length, might sate,
Whilst held the turban'd senate their debate!
The French Commander had resolved at length
By Art to win, what paralysed his Strength,
To gain by Feint, to capture by Surprise,
The town where, unredeemed, french honor lies.
Name must be his, by any means obtained,
Means graced by virtue, or by Vices stain'd!
The Band dispatch'd had borne across the land
To Kleber's wish'd for troops the late command,
The hardy troops that had encounter'd death
Between Mount Tabor and famed Nazareth;
Drawn in that form where Valour Death derides,
Firm in the hollow-square's impervious sides
Had forced Ten Thousand Turks aloof to stand
Whilst rose the sun and set upon the land.
They hear, with martial promptitude obey,
Their camp break up, arrive at Acre's bay.
Their smile but ill suppress'd, when heard the tale
Of the long Wonders of the martial vale;
How oft the brave Republicans had fled
How oft, in vain, their choicest Heroes bled.
Swiftly descending from the tented height,
Resolved to shew how Heroes ought to fight,
New aid, new fire, new courage, they bestow
And thus are bright again the hopes of Acre's foe!
" Frenchmen! high acts, said Bonaparte, invite,
'Tis England dares ye to the final fight!
For, the great moment is at length at hand
When Victory must elect its favorite band,
Lead on its front with her resistless car,
And crush at once the tumults of the war.
See where the British Standard blurs the air!
Let all the vigour of your wrath point there.
The Roman Eagle scarcely equal rose
To the deep terror of barbarian foes.
As their bold Standard on the high wind flies,
Its Lions seem ascending to the skies! "
The Shot and Shells in Vollies pour'd around,
The aim to take by Storm, but soon they found,
In turn astonish'd, Treachery was foiled,
Their Leader, e'en in Guile! had vainly toiled.
Both Turks and Syrians steadily receive
A foe known prompt at all times to deceive,
The English quite prepared to urge the fight
The contest destined to decide ere Night!
In aid of Justice, Valour is aroused,
And all the Furies of Revenge unhoused!
The British Chief at every point is found,
Support to give as Fate breaks Lines around.
He guides, he governs, he controuls the hour,
The wings of France beneath his Genius cower!
The Reinforcements share the common fate
Meet the same Prowess sink to equal state.
Yes! at these walls the lofty K LEBER 's band
Own'd the proud prowess of a naval hand.
Again exhausted, beaten, and undone,
From forth the breach the French, all panic, run.
Close to their steps they feel their noblest foe,
And but to Swiftness partial safety owe.
The English, rapid as o'erwhelming waves,
As wild, as e'er the fiercest tempest raves,
O'ertake the rear, before them swiftly dart,
And facing, turn them, back th' invaders start,
Start back in vain! Turks, Syrians, advance
Again drive on the vanquish'd troops of France!
With Eyes where reign'd Despair, with furious Breast,
The French Chief saw them in Retreat distress'd.
— How Asia dreads the spring the Tiger makes,
As from his stretch the prey he crouch'd for breaks!
With frame no less inflamed by fiercest rage,
His thirst of Vengeance hoping to assuage,
Thus Bonaparte, terrific in his might,
Recover'd here, now there, the faultering fight!
The french all loudly cheer'd where'er he came,
And filled th' horizon with their Hero's name.
And where He stirr'd, again Battalions fought,
Yet Victory's Car, which thus untired he sought,
Eludes his grasp, as the Mimosa sinks,
And from unhallow'd touch retreating shrinks.
By him unaw'd, brave Syria kept her way,
Her's now the Battle, her's the glorious day!
Britannia's seamen, upon Syrian ground,
His Masters in the war he mad'ning found!
— Where wert thou, Genius of dishonor'd France?
What other wrack employ'd thy distant glance,
That thus in Syria thy forsaken bands
Sink unprotected under Victor's hands?
In vain they rally, or in vain recede,
Their General's humbled, his Battalions bleed,
As new fall'n thousands all around are slain,
War's Demons raging sated o'er the plain!
Heroic fire in every bosom burned,
As from pursuit the conquerors returned.
To meet each fraud nocturnal of the foe,
And start at day-break to pursue the blow,
No sleep is suffer'd to recruit their powers,
The anxious night is passed upon the Towers,
Each searching eye, creative thought, awake,
So deep the interest, so immense the stake!
— Who can contemn if, glowing from the fight,
Illustrious actions they discourse through night,
And each relates the story of his deeds,
Whom he withstood, or by what Chance he bleeds?
Night's shades that lingering o'er earth had hung,
Fled down the Mountain, and bright dawn was sprung,
Stood on the lofty rock with timid beam,
Then pour'd more copiously day's vivid stream.
As objects open with the crescent light,
What thrilling view enchants the Syrians' sight!
Each thought sought Heaven, and each bosom swelled,
As Acre this triumphant scene beheld,
Beheld the foe abandoning the plain!
Where, torturous months, had raged their savage reign,
Viewed the last stragglers of the desperate host
Full swiftly winding round th' incumber'd coast.
The French, more easily themselves to save,
Their Mortars, Cannon, to the Ocean gave.
Their works forsaken and encampment prone
Their next atchievement — in the night they're flown!
The British Gunboats winding with the flood,
Marked all their harrass'd path of flight with blood,
Round every angle dreadful slaughter sent
As round each angle chased Battalions went.
Whilst British wrath pursued them as they fled,
C OPTS , D RUZES , A RABS , track'd them by their dead.
Egypt they sought, the future hapless stage
For fruitless enterprise and gallic rage.
From rescued Asia thus the french chief flies,
His A FRIC Laurel thus in A SIA dies!
All chance of sanguine march through which is marr'd,
The Path of Alexander! thus is barr'd,
'Gainst him who hoped to march to India's plains,
To every Court where Eastern Britain reigns,
To every Mart her Commerce makes its own
Beneath proud traders reigning from a Throne!
— As, pierced remotely in a fruitful limb,
The purple jewels of the vine are dim,
Its clusters shrink, its ruddy drops exude,
And, through its branch, the trunk itself's subdued,
So Britain's strength, though shunn'd on Britain's plain,
Inflicting distant wounds his daring thoughts would drain.
Whilst Rocks and Oceans borne on aether fly,
Roll their huge forms and glide amidst the sky,
If Bright Celestials e'er the Earth pursue,
Gazing! as man's unsanction'd schemes catch view,
Smile, as the Wisdom of the Mighty fails,
And mark grave Error as he haughty sails,
Ne'er fail'd a wilder purpose to their view,
Since midst the air the stranger Earth first flew,
Curved by Attraction into circling race,
As forth it sprang amidst th' Abyss of space,
Ne'er known a vaster project melt away
Than this great scheme of many a frenzied day!
Sidney! with Bonaparte's expiring sigh,
On Thee will still be fixed his mental eye!
For none before e'er stain'd his martial fame
By flight inglorious coupled with his name.
Thus, these famed Troops, with all their vaunted Skill,
'Gainst British Tars on shore! were Frenchmen still
Ah! — why not english tactics always plann'd
For either warfare, that of Sea or Land?
The dress, a mingled Uniform, might show
On Land or Sea they meet their Country's foe!
Their Realm high water mark on every strand,
O'erleapt when Justice summons to the land.
Can warlike prowess, shown midst Ocean's roar,
Desert the Hero on descent on shore!
In skilful Slander french finesse is shown,
England take rank as NAVAL power alone!
That, Land or Sea, alike she beats her foes
The Tale Of England's Warlike Spirit shows:
Whilst War raged solely o'er the Continent,
And, in highways to Forts, its fury spent,
How then fought England? Cressy ! P OICTIERS ! say,
And A GINCOURT ! — high Themes for Poet's Lay.
What Victories these! They not, as Gallia's, shine
By double numbers to refresh the Line!
England's victorious fighting treble foes,
Not strength of Number, force of Valour, shows.
When, in the constant changes of the World,
To C OLONIES all nations sails unfurled,
To war's new object S EAS were now highways,
That England's naval now — is loftiest praise!
Her Soldiers, quickly gliding o'er the seas,
With Genius versatile T HE T RIDENT seize,
French narrow genius from th' adventure shrinks,
Tries the new Element, at length, and sinks!
To Land the Battle shifts, M ARS rules once more,
Our Heroes blithly spring again on Shore!
Their Military Genius mean time waned?
How's this? Has Sloth their antient prowess stain'd!
Does MODERN HISTORY show degenerate race —
The Sons, not even to their Sires! give place.
Through E UROPE , widely Marlborough's praises roam,
Wolfe's in A MERICA for France driven home!
They're driven from Egypt! A FRIC sounds our fame,
In A SIA MAJOR India joins th' acclaim.
Shouts for our Victories, from each Q UARTER rise,
In A SIA MINOR — list! How Acre's reach the Skies!
Delight and Gratitude the bosoms swell
Of all that o'er the rescued regions dwell,
Peace soothing Sovereign now again is their's,
With all her Joys and interesting cares.
No more the dreaded Camp morn's streaks disclose,
Or thwart the night the mutter'd Watch-word flows,
No pickets hid in sombre shades relieve,
No foreign accent challenges — qui vive?
The distant hum, the clang of Arms, are past,
And Morn and Eve have varied calls at last.
Damascus gratefully the sceptre own'd
Of Peace by England thus again enthroned.
No more towards them Kleber's troops will wind,
Along A BANA 's streams by Balm-Groves lined,
Or P HARPHAR 's waves which swiftly dart along,
Through borders Art's and Nature's gifts enthrong,
As rich Cadambras, marble Cones, arise
And glimpse their features as the water flies.
The S ACRED R EGIONS ! where rapt beings trod,
Who held entranced communion with their God,
Where, awed and thrill'd with Heaven's immediate fire,
The Prophet-Poets struck the hallow'd Lyre,
Where, rapt in Vision, years in moments flew,
Whilst unborn Ages passed for their review;
Thrones, not yet raised! decaying in their sight,
Great Empires blazing, glimmering into Night!
The Syrian troops at leisure journey home,
In Spice-woods loiter, and midst Cedars roam,
Where scents of A MRA trees their sweets exhale,
Imparting perfume to the passing gale.
Now through a Citron-grove delighted march,
Or fragrant aisles which Myrtles overarch,
Whose Flowers hang o'er the Sabre's dreadful edge,
As Mars and Flora peaceful marriage pledge.
He, who his Daughter's agonies withstood,
E LCANOR , pious, valorous, and good,
By safe return awakes again their bliss
As once more greeted with a Parent's kiss.
In joyful cheeks the smiling dimples rise,
And blithesome pleasure future Care defies!
With them he yields his mind to placid joy,
And tranquil graceful cares their lives employ.
Danger no more, they rove through prostrate Dells,
Up Slopes of Palm, or o'er the verdant swells,
Whence Christian Towns and Monastries around
Enrich the view and consecrate the ground!
From their deep Shades are heard, at midnight hours,
Rising from forth the tall aspiring Towers,
The Hymns slow notes, as heaven-ward they ascend,
And sweet Enchantment to the Scenery lend.
The scoffing Turk is awed as round he treads,
And to disturb the holy concert dreads.
The following night, again he steals along,
And lists to catch the soul-inspiring song,
The wish'd for tones awake, sublime and clear,
He bends his head and every sense is ear.
At length, o'ercome, the rapturous tears effuse,
And glitter on his cheek like Hermon's dews.
A Proselyte half formed he moves away,
But, oft returns, and greets the closing day,
Which leads him ever to the hallow'd bounds
Where all his Soul's absorbed in sacred sounds!
The British Chief departs now from the plain,
His Fleet, midst Acre's shouts, glides o'er the Main.
To view the glowing sails all still attend,
As, by the Sun illumin'd, they descend,
Incessant Blessings greet him from the shore —
Acre's all grief when seen the mast no more!
Still, still, they search his course with straining eyes,
And shout their grateful praise across the skies.
— With fond regret his footsteps oft they tread,
Invoking Joys on their deliverer's head,
Point out where first he moor'd, where first he stood,
The greeted messenger of every good,
Speak to their children of his air his voice,
And shew the Home distinguish'd by his choice.

Thus, when pale Pestilence afflicts the Earth,
And every breeze gives fresh Distemper birth,
Health's Angel, sent from Heaven, with balmy wings
Elastic through the Empyrean springs.
His healing pinions fan the boundless way,
Pass bordering Systems, brilliant midst the day,
Until o'er Earth the beauteous Vision shines,
Sails through the air — and as it moves refines!
As glowing vapours all around him sail,
His form, all beam, illumined web-works veil,
Conceal'd midst these, on gold-fret clouds he rides,
And o'er the regions of Contagion glides,
On suffering Provinces his vial drains,
Supplies new strength, and mitigates their pains.
— His task performed, the Heaven-sent darts away,
To other realms he bears his healing ray,
But, though he thus recedes, a shining train
Of lingering precious lights will long behind remain!