Written Aboard the Royal George

Again the royal streamers play,To glory Edward hastes away;Adieu, ye happy silvan bowers,Where pleasure's sprightly throng await!Ye domes, where regal grandeur towersIn purple ornaments of state!Ye scenes where virtue's sacred strainBids the tragic Muse complain!Where satire treads the comic stage,To scourge and mend a venal age;Where music pours the soft, melodious lay,And melting symphonies congenial play:Ye silken sons of ease, who dwellIn flowery vales of peace, farewell!In vain the goddess of the myrtle groveHer charms ineffable displays;In vain she calls to happier realms of love,Which Spring's unfading bloom arrays;In vain her living roses blow,And ever-vernal pleasures grow;The gentle sports of youth no moreAllure him to the peaceful shore;Arcadian ease no longer charms,For war and fame alone can please:His throbbing bosom beats to arms,To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas.

CHORUS. The gentle sports of youth no moreAllure him to the peaceful shore,For war and fame alone can please:To war the hero moves, through storms and wintry seas.

Though danger's hostile train appearsTo thwart the course that honour steers;Unmoved he leads the rugged way,Despising peril and dismay.His country calls; to guard her laws,Lo! every joy the gallant youth resigns;The avenging naval sword he draws,And o'er the waves conducts her martial lines:Hark! his sprightly clarions play;Follow where he leads the way!The piercing fife, the sounding drum,Tell the deeps their master's come.

CHORUS. Hark! his sprightly clarions play,Follow where he leads the way!The piercing fife, the sounding drum,Tell the deeps their master's come.

Thus Alcmena's warlike sonThe thorny course of virtue run,When, taught by her unerring voice,He made the glorious choice:Severe, indeed, the attempt he knew,Youth's genial ardours to subdue:For pleasure, Venus' lovely form assumed;Her glowing charms, divinely bright,In all the pride of beauty bloom'd,And struck his ravish'd sight.Transfix'd, amazed,Alcides gazed:Enchanting graceAdorn'd her face,And all his changing looks confess'dThe alternate passions in his breast:Her swelling bosom half reveal'd,Her eyes that kindling raptures fired,A thousand tender pains instill'd,A thousand flattering thoughts inspired:Persuasion's sweetest language hungIn melting accent on her tongue:Deep in his heart the winning taleInfused a magic power;She press'd him to the rosy vale,And show'd the Elysian bower:Her hand that trembling ardours move,Conducts him blushing to the blest alcove:Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms,And won by love's resistless arms,The captive yields to nature's soft alarms!

CHORUS. Ah! see, o'erpower'd by beauty's charms,And won by love's resistless arms,The captive yields to nature's soft alarms!

Assist, ye guardian powers above!From ruin save the son of Jove!By heavenly mandate virtue came,And check'd the fatal flame:Swift as the quivering needle wheels,Whose point the magnet's influence feels,Inspired with awe,He, turning, sawThe nymph divineTranscendent shine;And, while he view'd the godlike maid,His heart a sacred impulse sway'd:His eyes with ardent motion roll,And love, regret, and hope, divide his soul.But soon her words his pain destroy,And all the numbers of his heart,Return'd by her celestial art,Now swell'd to strains of nobler joy.Instructed thus by virtue's lore,His happy steps the realms explore,Where guilt and error are no more:The clouds that veil'd his intellectual ray,Before his breath dispelling, melt away:Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain,He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign:Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd,And in his breast paternal glory burn'd.

CHORUS. Broke loose from pleasure's glittering chain,He scorn'd her soft inglorious reign:Convinced, resolved, to virtue then he turn'd,And in his breast paternal glory burn'd.

So when on Britain's other hope she shone,Like him the royal youth she won:Thus taught, he bids his fleet advanceTo curb the power of Spain and France:Aloft his martial ensigns flow,And hark! his brazen trumpets blow!The watery profound,Awaked by the sound,All trembles around:While Edward o'er the azure fieldsFraternal wonder wields:High on the deck behold he stands,And views around his floating bandsIn awful order join:They, while the warlike trumpet's strain,Deep sounding, swells along the main,Extend the embattled line.Then Britain triumphantly sawHis armament rideSupreme on the tide,And o'er the vast ocean give law.

CHORUS. Then Britain triumphantly sawHis armament ride,Supreme on the tide,And o'er the vast ocean give law.

Now with shouting peals of joy,The ships their horrid tubes display,Tier over tier in terrible array,And wait the signal to destroy.The sailors all burn to engage:Hark! hark! their shouts arise,And shake the vaulted skies!Exulting with bacchanal rage.Then, Neptune, the hero revere,Whose power is superior to thine!And, when his proud squadrons appear,The trident and chariot resign!

CHORUS. Then, Neptune, the hero revere,Whose power is superior to thine!And, when his proud squadrons appear,The trident and chariot resign!

Albion, wake thy grateful voice!Let thy hills and vales rejoice!O'er remotest hostile regionsThy victorious flags are known;Thy resistless martial legionsDreadful move from zone to zone.Thy flaming bolts unerring roll,And all the trembling globe control:Thy seamen, invincibly true,No menace, no fraud, can subdue:To thy great trustSeverely just,All dissonant strife they disclaim:To meet the foe,Their bosoms glow;Who only are rivals in fame.

CHORUS. Thy seamen, invincibly true,No menace, no fraud, can subdue:All dissonant strife they disclaim,And only are rivals in fame.

For Edward tune your harps, ye Nine!Triumphant strike each living string;For him, in ecstasy divine,Your choral Io Pæans sing!For him your festive concerts breathe!For him your flowery garlands wreath!Wake! O wake the joyful song!Ye Fauns of the woods,Ye Nymphs of the floods,The musical current prolong!Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain,To swell the grand chorus accord!Ye Tritons, that sport on the main,Exulting, acknowledge your lord!Till all the wild numbers combined,That floating proclaimOur Admiral's name,In symphony roll on the wind!

CHORUS. Wake! O wake the joyful song!Ye Silvans, that dance on the plain,Ye Tritons, that sport on the main,The musical current prolong!

Oh, while consenting Britons praise,These votive measures deign to hear!For thee my Muse awakes her lays,For thee the unequal viol plays,The tribute of a soul sincere.Nor thou, illustrious chief, refuseThe incense of a nautic Muse!For ah! to whom shall Neptune's sons complain,But him whose arms unrivall'd rule the main?Deep on my grateful breastThy favour is imprest:No happy son of wealth or fameTo court a royal patron came!A hapless youth, whose vital pageWas one sad lengthen'd tale of woe;Where ruthless fate, impelling tides of rage,Bade wave on wave in dire succession flow;To glittering stars and titled names unknown,Preferr'd his suit to thee alone.The tale your sacred pity moved;You felt, consented, and approved.Then touch my strings, ye blest Pierian choir!Exalt to rapture every happy line;My bosom kindle with Promethean fire;And swell each note with energy divine!No more to plaintive sounds of woeLet the vocal numbers flow!Perhaps the chief to whom I singMay yet ordain auspicious days,To wake the lyre with nobler lays,And tune to war the nervous string.For who, untaught in Neptune's school,Though all the powers of genius he possess,Though disciplined by classic rule,With daring pencil can displayThe fight that thunders on the watery way;And all its horrid incidents express?To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong;Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song!

CHORUS. To him, my Muse, these warlike strains belong;Source of thy hope, and patron of thy song!