Page:Poems on several occasions (IA poemsonseveraloc00boyc).pdf/45

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VIII.

The british squadrons dare rebellion's pow'r,
Hopeful to meet thee on th' important day;
But, ah, our genius govern'd not the hour!
Oh, mem'ry snatch thy images away!
The Valiant wing'd th' imputed flight of fear;
Thou, Glory, wert eclips'd; no Cumberland was near.

IX.

The clouds of dread the wond'ring isle o'ercaft,
On base subversion, rises pale dismay;
Near, and more near, the mad banditti haste,
And terror and destruction mark their way;
Now, with parental care our Monarch grieves,

And to his warlike son his royal mandate gives.

X,

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