Now dangers threat, and bloody toils await,
The storm of vengeance, and the frown of fate.
Now near the fam'd Egyptian coast they drew,
And groves of lofty palm arose to view;
Majestic ruins! solitude sublime!
Proud fabrics that resist the scythe of Time!
Co-eval empires long have moulder'd down,
Yet still in sullen majesty ye frown;
Stupendous piles! ah, vain illusive fame,
Swept with the stream of time, the builder's name
We trace no more, no more the priests of On,
Who measur'd first the circles of the sun,
space the limits fix'd, the bounds of time, And woo'd fair science to the Eastern clime. A while the Hero gaz'd-in pensive mood, And on the deck in silent sorrow stood: "And why, if fair renown were all, (he cry'd), "Have sages studied, or have patriots died? "Renounc'd the calm delights of private life, "And pin'd in solitude, or groan'd in strife; "If thus the lights and guardians of mankind "Leave not the relic of a name behind! "Yet not in vain they struggled or they bled, "When from below the mounting spirit fled,
"Scorn'd the dull earth, and sought the blest abodes, By men ador'd as tutelary gods.
They saw the fruit of all their virtuous toil "Take foot and flourish in their native soil,
"And from the realms of light with joy beheld, "While swains in safety reap'd the cultur'd field, "In lands before neglected or enslav'd,
Taught by their wisdom, by their valour sav'd.
"Oh glorious meed! exalted and divine!
"Ease, pleasure, life, with transport I resign,
"Let virtue's pure immortal bliss be mine!"
He said, then near approaching to the shore,
The wondering troops a novel scene explore,
Where bold commanding all the subject bay,
Hills above hills a warlike front display;
Like some high amphitheatre they rose,
In crowding ranks appear'd unnumber'd foes;
Fir'd at the view, the fleet their anchors cast,
The warriors launch the lesser barks in haste.
How many now impetuous seek the shore,
Doom'd to review their native land no more!
And ere the sun his evening light withdraws,
To fall triumphant victims in her cause.
High on a summit see their forts aspire,
And pour upon the barks a shower of fire:
Still ardent on with matchless force they urge,
And bear their weapons high, and breast the surge:
Thus CESAR plunging in th' Egyptian wave,
Still bore aloft the sword that aw'd the brave.
What cannot British pow'r and courage dare?
When thus upon the threshold of the war,
Eager of fame, and prodigal of breath,
They rush to conquest or to certain death
On every side see hostile fury burn,
'Tis vain to fly, and bootless to retnrn.
Then gallant MOORE advancing at their head,
Bold to the steep his thundering legions led :
In close array ascending from the shore,
Full on their front his fatal weapons bore,
While dying groans his fierce approach deplore.
The fleet suspended view the sulphurous cloud
That wraps in smoke the undistinguish'd crowd;
But when ascending to their guarded height,
The British ensign stream'd in open sight,
From every deck th' applauding thunders rise,
Exulting shouts of triumph rend the skies;
With livid rage the foe astonish'd heard,
And Lodi's heroes wonder'd how they fear'd;
Repuls'd, indignant from the British fire
The veteran Gallic bands at length retire.
While now secure they spread along the strand,
And hail their entrance on the dear-bought land,
The thoughtful Veteran casts his eyes around,
With cautious view to scan the 'vantage ground,
Where steepy banks above, or walls below,
Might screen the march of the insidious foe,
He notes, then bids the pioneers advance,
And marks the future trenches with a glance.
For him no hand prepares the downy bed,
No busy menials splendid carpets spread;
No social evening joys his thoughts engage,
Nor rest nor ease, the lenitives of age;
Wrapt in his mantle on the chilly ground,
He sleeps, his faithful troops reposing round:
Oft watchful centinels their slumbers break,
And starting with the early drum they wake.
Seven active days were spent in ceaseless toil
To form th' encampment on the arid soil;
And seven short nights to broken slumbers given,
He slept beneath the canopy of heaven :
With prompt alacrity the leader shares
The soldier's labours, and the soldier's cares.
At length complete, the camp well order'd rose,
A warlike front presenting to their foes;
The dread artillery (still a cumbrous train),
Not yet transported o'er the sandy plain,
Slept on the margin of the murmuring main.
Pale fires thro' all the camp with answering light,
Shone livid thro' the heavy gloom of night:
No stars with twinkling lustre deck the skies,
No moon in splendour mild is seen to rise;
O'er all the scene unusual horrors low'r,
And double darkness wraps the midnight hour:
Ill omen'd hour for Gallia's hostile bands,
Who now drawn out in force their Chief commands,
In solemn silence, thro' th' impervious gloom
To bear their fatal arms, and seal the British doom.
Slowly they trac'd their inauspicious way,
The raven hovering o'er their long array,
With boding croak anticipates the day.
Meantime the British host, with toils opprest,
Snatch the short interval of balmy rest,
And while their Chief in peaceful slumber lies,
To soothe his soul, propitious visions rise,
And smiling forms, in palms celestial drest,
Invite him to their happy fields of rest.
Due at the wonted hour, ere morning broke,
Fill'd with presages glad the Chief awoke,
Inspir'd with sacred fervour, lifts his eyes,
Invokes the mighty Pow'r who rules the skies:
"And grant, (he cries) my country's arms success,
"The native land of arts and freedom bless,
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