Page:Poems By Chauncy Hare Townshend.djvu/362
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WATERLOO.
A world in arms—a Tyrant hurl'd from high—An Empire's might—a People's constancy;All that inspirits, soothes, exalts, endears,The victor's triumph, and the mourner's tears,All throng in vast succession, each in turnMelts the full heart, or bids its ardour burn.Lost in effulgence, where shall Fancy stray?How from the brightness part each blended ray?How, when the full-orb'd Moon on Ocean streams,Paint ev'ry wave, where sep'rate lustre gleams;Yet all combin'd upon the dazzled sightEffuse one flood of undivided light?Long thro' her realms had Earth with discord burn'd;To Belgium now her eager glance is turn'd—Stage of high deeds, where waits each anxious eyeThe last wild act of War's dread tragedy.To-morrow sees Gaul's proud Usurper hurl'dLow to the dust, or Monarch of the world.Spirits, to whom the care of man is given,Ye bend expectant from your native Heaven.'Tis not o'er one pale nation Doubt prevails—A World, a World is trembling in the scales!
Fierce in his splendour, ere his course be run,From broken clouds looks out the threat'ning Sun;