Classic Poem

To Lieutenant General Lord Hutchinson, &c. &c.

N URST on the breast of Science and of Song,
Yet more supremely form'd for martial feat,
To Thee, of right, the blended wreaths belong,
Which Glory borrows from the Muse's Seat!

Returning from that celebrated Shore,
Where Learning, erst, her proud dominion spread,
Tho' by the British keel untouch'd before,
A huge Mausoleum of the mighty dead!

Say, gallant Hero! shall that artless lay,
Warbled, erewhile, within thy native bow'r,
Be silent now, tho' Fame's perennial bay
Mocks the frail tribute of a fading flow'r?

No — mid the laureate verdure, let it twine
Its fresh, but little leaf, and be accounted Thine!