Ode to Lord Hood, 1783

I.
While with undaunted soul, afar
The Hero meets the storm of war,
While braving it's terrific bands,
His native coast unshaken stands:
Shall not, beneath the myrtle bowers
Where Leisure sheds her balmy showers,
Science and Eloquence combine
The wreathe of fragrant praise to twine?
Shall not the Muses tune their sweetest song?
And Gratitude with joy the choral notes prolong?

II.
Nor Thou, O Hood! disdain the lyre,
Enkindler of the Poet's fire.
When Greece beheld in days of old
Crown'd with success her warriors bold
When Rome with gladsome shouts survey'd
Her Sons in victory array'd,
Surpassing every trophy won
The golden verse smooth-polisht shone.
The splendid triumph moved ungraced and vain,
If Rapture prompted not the warm enthusiast strain.

III.
Nor shall th' harmonious meed of fame
On thee, corrival of their name,
Be unbestow'd. For liberal choice,
Not party's interested voice
The Bard directs; who scorns to wrest
The plumage from another's crest
T' embellish thine; nor t'ward the goal
Of glory, opening to thy soul,
Would so depress thy own elastic force,
Impede thy vigorous aim, and free unsullied course.

IV.
These boast perchance impetuous might,
And Those, consummate skill in fight;
In both transcendent, where around
Yon waving sweets o'ershade the ground,
Where high yon verdant palms arise,
Bending on thee his conscious eyes,
The Antillean Genius smiles,
And owns, amid his clustering isles,
No Chief superior conduct e'er display'd,
Or adverse hosts arranged with braver deeds dismay'd.

V.
While on her cheeks the blush is spread,
While low she stoops her baffled head,
To thee, reluctant Gallia pays
The tribute of extorted praise.
Destined her numbers to deride,
At will to pass, repass the tide,
Securely gain the sheltering bay,
Securely cross the liquid way,
Check her ambitious wings, her hopes repell,
And arm'd in sure defence her dreams of empire quell.

VI.
When changed from friends, to bitterest foes,
Britannia's progeny arose,
When Belgia, when Iberia lower'd,
When France her force collected pour'd,
When all the Naval World conspired
By Russia's treacherous counsels fired,
When Faction on her vitals prey'd,
To thee thy Country look'd for aid;
Nor didst thou fail, in her afflicted hour,
To prove, with guardian arm, th' extent of human power.

VII.
Envy may strive to wound thy heart,
But blunted is her venom'd dart,
Which takes its ineffectual flight
Opposed by Virtue's armour bright.
Oh! listening to her voice divine,
Upon the lap of peace recline,
Whose olive ne'er so rich is seen
As when adorned with laurels green;
There, by reflection blest, without alloy,
Each merited reward, each just acclaim enjoy.

VIII.
Transmitting to thy Race, (above
All titles, all a Monarch's love,
Whatever wealth or power can boast,
Or earth-born grandeur values most,)
Pure honour, valour's ardent flame,
And the true Patriot's real name.
While History's pen, from age to age,
Recording in her sacred page
The last of Britons, thy renown shall save,
Among th' illustrious few, from cold obliviou's grave.

IX.
And e'en the Land, which saw with fear
Thy sails, and crimson flag appear,
Which struggling with her Parent State
Hath but obey'd the will of fate:
Shall point thee out to future times,
When issuing from unwonted climes,
New Fleets shall throng th' Atlantic plain,
Comtemning Europe's old domain;
Shall bid her Heroes thy example see,
Form the sagacious plan, and rule the war, like Thee.