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All that is dear in polish'd life,
All that is worth the martial strife,

Which ne'er your fathers knew: Orouse! and guard your best delights :Your country's hopes-your country's rights

Your country looks to you!

By Virtue's prayers, by Age's fears,
By Childhood's charms, by Beauty's

tears,

Unsheath the vengeful sword! O spurn a faithless tyrant's yoke;" With spirits unsubdued-unbroke→

Nor trust his treach'rous word!

Will HE, whose desolating bands
Pour'd horror over other lauds,

Respect your nation's rights? Believe it not-Ambition knows Compunction ne'er for human woes,

When wealth or pow'r invites.

When duty calls-when Heav'n inspires

While lives the example of

your sires, And Freedom's name endures, oppose

Britons, united, dare

Your breasts to all invading foes,
And Victory shall be yours?

ANTICHRIST.

Since Satan, in the latter days,
Was destin'd Antichrist to raise,

Men look'd for his arrival; Sometimes they doubted and demurr'd, Again some new event occur'd

To give their fears revival. But now the case is clear and plain, None doubt of Antichrist's dread reign, Since Bonaparte's began; Whom, since he first in France was known,

His ev'ry word and act have shewn

The foe of God and man.

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The vanquish'd Turks to save, Four thousand captives sacrifice, Scoff at their pangs, smile at their cries, And rob them of a grave.

When driv'n from Acre's tow'rs with shame,

See him th' infernal project frame,

Then first conceiv'd and wrought, With semblance of paternal care, For his own sick the

cup prepare With mortal poison fraught. See him the Christian faith abjure, Partake of Tallien's rites impure,

And breathe his Pagan yows:

Heedless from whom he gain'd support,
Behold him, wild Barras to court,
His concubine espouse.

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View him again on Delta's plain,
While yet he held his fleeting reign,
Complete his impious work:
Against his Saviour own his hate,
And vauntingly, in turban'd state,

Avow himself a Turk.

See him, of France First Consul proud, Surrounded by a venal crowd

Of prostituted slaves, Promulgating his stern decrees, Arm'd at all points each state to seize Which his dictation braves.

Prepar'd

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VOL. I.

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ODE TO FREEDOM.

NURSE of heroes, FREEDOM, hear;
Hear thy suppliant's fervent prayer;
Seize, oh! seize, th' avenging spear,
And all thy martial pomp prepare:

Come array'd in helmed pride,
Come with Vengeance by thy side;
Rear thy fate-fraught arm on high,

Dart the light'ning of thine eye:

Haste, Freedom, haste-and quit the tranquil scene,
Where join'd with Labour, thou dost love to dwell:
No longer loiter on the wood-fring'd green-

'Tis time to strike thy foes-to break the spell-
Which hell prepar'd, and dipt in Stygian flood,
Has delug'd Europe in a sea of blood.

and see
Goddess, raise thine eye,
What horrid scenes prevail around;
Hark! how pale-fac'd Misery

Mourns her fate in plaintive sound:
Mark what piteous groupes appear,
Bound in chains, and pale with fear;
Mark their shrieks, their piercing cries,

Their looks deprest, their deep-drawn sighs;
Young orphans, widows, virgins craz'd, bewail,
And raise their clasped hands to heav'n in pray'r;
Their grief-bent forms relate their dismal tale,
And say behold the children of Despair:

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Now see where Tyranny ascends her throne,
All stain'd with blood-and mocks them as they groan.

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In thund'ring voice she gives the word-
"Soldiers," the monster cries, "away"-
No sooner is the mandate heard,

Than out they rush to seize their prey;
With rav'nous speed the legions haste,
And lay the groaning nations waste;
On, on, they hold their vengeful course,
Nor staid by pity nor remorse.

The swain beholds the produce of his toil,

His wife, his children, all which gave delight; Behold them all the dread invader's spoil,

And will not deign to shun their fate by flight: He stays-they strike the blow-and as he dies, He hears his ravish'd daughter's anguish'd cries.

Switzerland-once happy spot,

Where peace and joy did once reside;
How alter'd now thy hapless lot!
How chang'd thy noble free-born prid
No more the voice of joy prevails
Amid thy rocks and shadowy dales;
No more thy peasants dance the round,
Cheer'd by merry Music's sound;

Gay smiles are seen no more-but, wrapt in gloom,
Each youth in silence mourns thy hapless doom:
And as he blushing eyes the honour'd graves,

Where, safe from all their country's woes,

His patriot ancestors repose,

He cries--" I love---yet dare I now,

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The passion of my soul avow?-Ah! no-I will not be the Sire of slaves; Till I am free-let vengeance be my cry--If free I cannot be-'tis time to die."

Holland, whose bold and hardy race
Had fenced out the raging sea;
Behold her foul and sad disgrace ;
Behold her bound in slavery;

Down the massy bulwarks strike-
Quick, destroy the lofty dyke;

And where rich lands are seen-once more
Let Ocean's whelming waters roar;

Or rather thou their drooping souls inspire,
And fill their breasts with thine avenging fire,
Nor there alone in base subjection pine;
Low-low are laid the nations of the Rhine;

Poor

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Poor Spain and Italy have felt the stroke,

And bow'd their heads beneath the galling yoke.
Say how were all these nations won?
How was Europe thus o'er-run?
Freedom, to effect their shame,

Tyranny assum'd thy name;

The masked fiend exclaim'd " I come to bless

To fix your rights, and give you happiness.”
'Twas thus deceiv'd by words the nations fell,
And found too late the promis'd heav'n a hell.
And now the monster, conquest-proud,
And jealous of our rival pow'r;
Would hither lead his hireling crowd,
To murder, ravage, and devour:
Let him come-nor force nor wile
Can e'er subdue thy fav'rite isle;
Let him come-still led by thee,
We haste to certain victory:

We shouting haste-and, form'd in martial line,
The dread avengers of the world we stand;
Whilst children, virgins, wives, surround thy shrine,
And call down blessings on their native land.
Yes, yes, their patriot pray'r is heard,
Their pray'r to heav'n and thee preferr❜d—
Now the rival hosts engage,

Far resounds the battle's rage;

And now the work of death is done,
Hark! Britons shout-the day is won.

The day is won-War's murd'rous horrors cease,
And Freedom's sons resume the works of peace.

The impressive style, the importance of the subject, and the Right Reverend Author's desire that its contents should be generally promulgated, induce the Editors of the Antigallican, to give to their readers the following Extracts from the Lord Bishop of Llandaff's Intended Speech to the House of Lords on the opening of the present Session. My Lords,

IN obedience to his Majesty's commands, and in compliance with my own sense of public duty, I this day appear in my place in the noblest as

sembly upon earth, convened by the most gracious Monarch that ever sat upon a throne, and required to deliberate upon the most important subjects that ever occupied your Lordships' attention, or that of any of your predecessors in this house.

I, my Lords, could have been well contented to spend the little remainder of my life in retirement, and buried in obscurity; indifferent, alike, to the calls of professional emolument, and professional ambition: but I cannot be contented to remain indifferent to the summons of my Sovereign, in a time of distress? deaf to the calls of my country, 3 12

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