Ode, Composed for the Birth-Day of the Late Gen. Lord Blakeney

The muses harps, by Concord strung!
Loud let them strike the festal lay,
Wak'd by Britannia's grateful tongue,
To hail her hero's natal day.
Arise, paternal glory rise,
And lift your Blakeney to the skies!

Behold his warlike banners wave!
Like Britain's oak the hero stands:
The shield—the shelter of the brave!
The guardian o'er the British bands!
Arise, paternal, &c.

He wrests the wreath from Richlieu's brows,
Which Fraud or Faction planted there;
France to the gallant hero bows,
And Europe's chiefs his name revere.
Arise, paternal, &c.

With partial conquest on their side!
The sons of Gaul—a pageant crew!
Rank, but inglorious in their pride,
To Blakeney, and his vanquish'd few.
Arise, paternal, &c.

Hibernia, with maternal care,
His labour'd statue lifts on high:
Be partial, Time!—the trophy spare,
That Blakeney's name may never die!
Arise, paternal glory, rise!
And lift your Blakeney to the skies.