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Unshelter'd and forced by fatigue to remain,
All chill’d by the wind and benumb’d by the rain.

JOHN.

I have rode out the storm the billows beat

high, And the red gleaming lightnings flash'd through the

dark sky;

When the tempest of night the black sea overcast, Wet and weary I labourd, yet sung to the blast.

SAMUEL.

I have march'd, trumpets sounding, drums beat

ing, flags flying Where the music of war drown'd the shrieks of the

dying; When the shots whizz'daround me, all dangers defied; Push'd on when my comrades fell dead at my side; Drove the foe from the mouth of the cannon away, , Fought, conquer'd, and bled, all for sixpence a-day.

JOHN.

And I too, friend Samuel, have heard the shots

rattle! But we seamen rejoice in the play of the battle ; Though the chain and the grape-shot roll splintering

around, With the blood of our messmates though slippery

the ground, The fiercer the fight, still the fiercer we grow, We heed not our loss so we conquer the foe;

And the hard battle won, if the prize be not sunk, The Captain gets rich, and the Sailors get drunk.

SAMUEL

God help the poor soldier when backward he goes, In disgraceful retreat through a country of foes ! No respite from danger by day or by night, He is still forced to fly, still o'ertaken to fight; Every step that he takes he must battle his way, He must force his hard meal from the peasant away ; No rest, and no hope, from all succour afar, .. God forgive the poor soldier for going to the war!

JOHN.

But what are these dangers to those I have past, When the dark billows roar'd to the roar of the blast; When we work'd at the pumps worn with labour

and weak, And with dread still beheld the increase of the leak? Sometimes as we rose on the wave could our sight, From the rocks of the shore catch the light-house's

light; In vain to the beach to assist us they press ; We fire faster and faster our guns of distress; Still with rage unabating the wind and waves roar ;.. How the giddy wreck reels, as the billows burst o'er! Leap, leap; for she yawns, for she sinks in the wave! Call on God to preserve .. for God only can save !

SAMUEL.

There's an end of all troubles, however, at last ! And when I in the waggon of wounded was cast,

When my wounds with the chilly night-wind smarted

sore, And I thought of the friends I should never see more, No hand to relieve, scarce a morsel of bread, Sick at heart I have envied the peace of the dead. Left to rot in a jail, till by treaty set free, Old England's white cliffs with what joy did I see ! I had gain'd enough glory, some wounds, but no good, And was turn'd on the public to shift how I could. When I think what I've suffer'd, and where I am

now,

I curse him who snared me away from the plough.

JOHN.

When I was discharged, I went home to my wife, There in comfort to spend all the rest of my

life.
My wife was industrious, we earn'd what we spent,
And though little we had, were with little content;
And whenever I listen'd and heard the wind roar,
I bless'd God for

my
little

snug cabin on shore.
At midnight they seized me, they dragg’d me away,
They wounded me sore when I would not obey,
And because for my country I'd ventured my life,
I was dragg'd like a thief from

my
home and

my

wife. Then the fair wind of fortune chopt round in my face, And want at length drove me to guilt and disgrace. But all's for the best;.. on the world's wide sea cast, I am haven'd in peace in this corner at last.

SAMUEL.

Come, Dick I we have done .. and for judgement

we call.

RICHARD.

And in faith I can give you no judgement at all : But that as you're now settled, and safe from foul

weather, You drink up your grog, and be merry together.

Oxford, 1794

IV.

FREDERIC.

TIME, Night. Scene, The Woods.

WHERE shall I turn me? whither shall I bend
My weary way? thus worn with toil and faint,
How through the thorny mazes of this wood
Attain my distant dwelling? That deep cry
That echoes through the forest, seems to sound
My parting knell : it is the midnight howl
Of hungry monsters prowling for their prey !
Again ! O save me, save me, gracious Heaven!
I am not fit to die !

Thou coward wretch,
Why palpitates thy heart? why shake thy limbs
Beneath their palsied burthen? Is there aught
So lovely in existence ? wouldst thou drain
Even to its dregs the bitter draught of life?
Stamp'd with the brand of Vice and Infamy,
Why should the felon Frederic shrink from Death?

Death! Where the magic in that empty name That chills my inmost heart? Why at the thought Starts the cold dew of fear on every limb ? There are no terrors to surround the Grave, When the calm Mind collected in itself Surveys that narrow house: the ghastly train

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