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Who, conscious that his fortune still must yield
When such opponents met him in the field,
Bravely resolved (the Moniteur would say)
To 'tempt the ocean, rather than to stay.*

Pennant, thine antiquarian labours cease
With gallant Howe, death calls thy soul to peace.

Tjppoo, the mighty Sultan of Mysore,
Falls, with his capital, to rise no more;
Much we rejoice when Britain's arms succeed,
Yet much regret to see a monarch bleed,
Defending to the last, in mortal fight,
What surely less was ours than his good right.

The conquerors of Austerlitz we hate,
Who not succeed thro' rectitude, but fate;
And Indian princes, who ne'er thought
Of British interference, ought

* Nelson's victory seemed to deprive the French of all succour from the Continent; and the Turks, being reinforced by a small body of English, under the command of Sir Sydney Smith, the French were subjected to innumerable distresses and defeats, when an unexpected scheme was put in execution by Bonaparte, which was no other than that of making his escape from Egypt.


Maintain their ancient rights against, or trade,
Or what, or whom their native land, invade;
Correction here may offer a short word,
To say that Tifpoo was not rightful lord
Of what he died for; that bold Hyder's son
Defended what his sire by force had won,

While we the legal Rajah's heir restored.*
It may be so, but truth says, after all,
The Musnud of Mysore is Leadexhall.

Painful thy task, O Bard, to sing

Of danger :o our much-loved Xing, 1S00.

Yet pleasure every heart must feel to know

That Providence averts each nearly fatal blow:

See, with a parent leader's pride,

Round his brave troops the Monarch ride:

From some fell tube the leaden death,

* Kistna Rajah Oidaver, the only child of Chiaum Rauze, or I'aige, (five of whose seven wives are living), was placed on the Mu?nud, or throne, of the deceased Rajah, on the SOth of June, at the old town of Mysore; the ceremony was performed by General Harris, as senior Member of the British Commission, and Meer Allum, acting for his Highness the Nizam. The deportment of the young Prince, who was only Jive years eld, is described as having been remarkably decorous.

Vide Lonsdale's Narrative Sketches of the
Conquest of the Mysore.

Which else had robb'd our Sire of breath,

15y heaven's kind aid is turn'd aside:

Scarce had the sun that memorable dny

On ocean's surface ceas'd to play,

When, as his people's shouts their Sovereign hail,

They see a desp'rate hand his life assail ;*

Yes, while surrounded by each dtarest friend,

Wife, children, all that love and friendship blend,

His family of Britons mark'd how near

The King of terrors,—while with doubt and fear

All were impress'd, save one, that one was he

Who knew not but he yet might be

The victim of a fatal shot reserved;

Yes, George, by interposing heav'n preserved,

With confidence, as brave as mild,

Bow'd to his people, sigh'd, and smiled!

Made the assassin's safety first his care,

And bade his guards the unhappy maniac spare.

On Union with our Sister Isle

May genuine friendship ever smile;

May jealousies, and fears and doubts,

Created, or by ins or outs,

Yield to a hearty social band

Of love and faith 'twixt either land.

* At Drury-Lane Theatre.


Malta, the ancient knightly seat
Of many a gallant warlike feat,
Yields to the British arms; and mark
Where Abercrombie's glorious lads embark
For Egypt's shore, where let the Muse, poor elf,
Quote one or two short stanzas from herself.


*' Twas on the spot in ancient lore oft named, "Where Isis and Osiris once held sway

"O'er kings who sleep in pyramidic pride, "But now for British valour far more famed,

"Since Nelson's band achieved a glorious day,

"And, crown'd with laurel, Abercrombie died."

"Her roseate colours the dawn had not shed

"O'er the field, which stern slaughter had tinted too red,

"All was dark, save each flash at the cannon's hoarse sound,

"When the brave Abercrombie received his death wound!

"With a mind unsubdued still the foe he defied •' On the steed which the Hero of Acre supplied,

"Till, feeling he soon to fate's summons must yield,

"He gave Sydney the sword he no longer could wield.

"The standard of Britain by victory crown'd, "Wav'd over that head which now sank to the ground!

"His comrades with grief unaffected deplore,
"While to Albion's renown he adds one laurel

And large the laurel the lov'd warrior gave,
Purchased with life !—to his all-honor'd grave
Let every manly trait of patriot woe,
With beauty's pearly tear, co-mingled go:
What centuries of most sincere tegret
Can to his mem'ry pay the nation's debt ?—
Our debt to him whom nor destructive surge,
Nor all that Gallic arms and tactics urge,
Cou'd bar a passage on that very shore
Where Nelson's thunders had been heard before;
To him the glorious conflict who began,
Which drove Napoleon's legions, to a man,
To quit, inglorious, that much-injur'd strand,
Where violence and rapine bade them land;

* Fide T. Dibdin's Songs.

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