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Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid

Some head, once fraught with diplomatic fire, Hands that CALCUTTA's sceptre might have

sway'd, And brought from India many a rich Jaghire.

But commerce to their eyes her figur'd page,

Rich with a Nabob's spoil, did ne'er unroll, No navy seconded advent'rous rage,

To barter wealth “ from Indus to the Pole."

Full many a mind with force to guide a storm,

Or politics, or trade, must think alone; Full many a heart of valour's boldest form

Is doom'd to wither in the ranks unknown.

Some ABERCROMBIE who, with dauntless breast,

Aggressing Gaul had chaсed from£gypt's shore; Some Marlbro', WOLFE, CORNWALLIS, bere

may rest, A Smith, a STUART, WELLINGTOx, or MOORE.

The thanks of British Senates to command,

The threats of Gaul's Colossus to despise,
To fight for freedom in Iberia's land,
And raise our fame in LUSITANIA's eyes.


Their lot forbad, nor circumscribed alone

Their growing virtue's but their crimes confin'd, Forbade to wade thro' blood to Gallia's throne,

And shut the gates of freedom on mankind.

The struggling pangs of murder'd truth to hide,

To quench the useful ardor of the press, To heap the shrine of self-created pride

With honours which but make the wearer less.

Far from subverting an establish'd throne,

Such modern doctrines were by them denied, They'd hands and hearts to combat for their own, And for their sov'reign's rights they fought and


Yet e'en these bones which grave nor tomb pro

tect, Nor sculptured arts, with letter'd graces vie, Oft shall the feeling passer by reflect,

And pay their patriot virtue with a sigb.

For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey

But thinks on him whose patriotic mind . Can for his country cast his life away, Tho' mindful of the friends he leaves behind.


Nor name, nor years, sung by the loftiest muse,

Cou'd praise to equal their desert supply, Who, scorning Norman William, dared refuse

To yield, and for that bold refusal die.

For WILLIAM, bane of those most honour'd dead,

Few are the lines that may his tale relate, A life of warfare in his reign he led, His sons, and HAROLD's sons, still cross'd his


And foreign wars he waged, and built the Tow'r, And caus'd our laws the Norman tongue to

speak, And tax'd poor devils who were in his power,

And help'd the strong to triumph o'er the weak.

The Exchequer first at Westminster he placed,

Next, to secure of hunting ground a stock, New forest for his pleasure he laid waste,

And made folks go to bed at eight o'clock.

At MANTES, to burn a town it was his will, His horse took fright, Will pulld him up in vain,

And, And, or he died, or was used very ill,

For certainly they buried him at Caen.

There, at due stated periods of the year,

Were requiems and masses sung and said, And little choristers oft warbled there,

As choristers will do when they are paid.

Around his tomb they march in sad array, ..

Where is an Epitaph inscribed most fair, Whether the following, I dare not say,

Because I own, I never saw it there.



Here rests his head upon its native earth

A Prince to fame and fortune greatly known, Of high ambition, thoʻof doubtful birth,

ALBION he saw, and mark'd her for his own.

Large was his army, numerous his fleet,

Fate did commensurate success send down, He gave to HAROLD a severe defeat,

He gain'd from victory, all he wish'd, a crown.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Or on a conqueror's faults too nicely look, He'll find, when waking from the tomb's repose,

His sentence is inscribed in doomsday-book. *

* Doomsday-book, is a register now extant, of all landed possessions, introduced among the feadal regulations by the Conqueror.


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