George Canning Poems

For one long term, or e'er her trial came,
Here Brownrigg linger'd. Often have these cells
Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice
She scream'd for fresh Geneva. Not to her
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When the broad-bottom
'd Junto, with reason at strife,
Resign'd, with a sigh, its political life;
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How blest, how firm the Statesman stands,
(Him no low intrigue shall move),
Circled by faithful kindred bands,
And propp'd by fond fraternal love.
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What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,
What various duties bind his faithful train,--
What pious zeal his scatter'd tribes unites
In fix'd observance of these holy rites,--
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If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep,
The sky, if no longer dark tempests deform;
When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?
No!--Here's to the Pilot who weather'd the storm!
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A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM PITT.
When, by th' Almighty's dread command
Elijah, call'd from Israel's land,
Rose in the sacred flame,
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Unrivall'd Greece! thou ever honor'd name,
Thou nurse of heroes dear to deathless fame!
Though now to worth, to honor all unknown,
Thy lustre faded, and thy glories flown;
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Praise to placeless proud ability,
Let the prudent muse disclaim;
And sing the Statesman--all civility--
Whom moderate talents raise to fame.
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Though short thy span, God's unimpeach'd decrees,
Which made that shorten'd span one long disease,
Yet merciful in chastening, gave thee scope
For mild, redeeming virtues, Faith and Hope;
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