104
PRIZE POEMS.
The hurried march, the looks of grim delight.
The yell, the rush, the slaughter, and the flight,
The arms unwearied in the cruel toil,
The hoarded vengeance and the rifled spoil;
And, last of all, the revel in the wood,
The feast of death, the banqueting of blood,
When the wild warrior gazes on his foe
Convulsed beneath him in his painful throe,
And lifts the knife, and kneels him down to drain
The purple current from the quiv'ring vein?—
Cease, cease the tale; and let the ocean's roll
Shut the dark horror from my wilder'd soul!
And are there none to succour? none to speed
A fairer feeling and a holier creed?
Alas! for this, upon the ocean blue,
Lamented Cook, thy pennon hither flew;
For[1] this, undaunted o'er the raging brine,
The venturous Frank upheld his Saviour's sign.
Unhappy Chief! while Fancy thus surveys
The scatter'd islets, and the sparkling bays,
Beneath whose cloudless sky and gorgeous sun
Thy life was ended, and thy voyage done,
In shadowy mist thy form appears to glide,
Haunting the grove, or floating on the tide;
Oh! there was grief for thee, and bitter tears,
And racking doubts through long and joyless years;
And tender tongues that babbled of the theme,
And lonely hearts that doated on the dream.
Pale Memory deem'd she saw thy cherish'd form
Snatch'd from the foe, or rescued from the storm;
And faithful Love, unfailing and untired,
Clung to each hope, and sigh'd as each expired.
The yell, the rush, the slaughter, and the flight,
The arms unwearied in the cruel toil,
The hoarded vengeance and the rifled spoil;
And, last of all, the revel in the wood,
The feast of death, the banqueting of blood,
When the wild warrior gazes on his foe
Convulsed beneath him in his painful throe,
And lifts the knife, and kneels him down to drain
The purple current from the quiv'ring vein?—
Cease, cease the tale; and let the ocean's roll
Shut the dark horror from my wilder'd soul!
And are there none to succour? none to speed
A fairer feeling and a holier creed?
Alas! for this, upon the ocean blue,
Lamented Cook, thy pennon hither flew;
For[1] this, undaunted o'er the raging brine,
The venturous Frank upheld his Saviour's sign.
Unhappy Chief! while Fancy thus surveys
The scatter'd islets, and the sparkling bays,
Beneath whose cloudless sky and gorgeous sun
Thy life was ended, and thy voyage done,
In shadowy mist thy form appears to glide,
Haunting the grove, or floating on the tide;
Oh! there was grief for thee, and bitter tears,
And racking doubts through long and joyless years;
And tender tongues that babbled of the theme,
And lonely hearts that doated on the dream.
Pale Memory deem'd she saw thy cherish'd form
Snatch'd from the foe, or rescued from the storm;
And faithful Love, unfailing and untired,
Clung to each hope, and sigh'd as each expired.
- ↑ From the coast of Australasia the last despatches of La Peyrouse were dated.—Vid. Quarterly Review for Feb. 1810.
