Macte ideó decus Oceani! macte omne per ævum Victrix, æquoreo stabilita BRITANNIA regno! Litoribusque tuis ne propugnacula tantúm Præsidio fore, nec saxi munimina credas, Nec tantúm quæ mille acies in utrumque parantur, Aut patriam tutari, aut non superesse cadenti; Invictæ quantúm metuenda tonitrua CLASSIS, Angliacæ CLASSIS;—quæ majestate verendâ Ultrix, inconcussa, diú dominabitur orbi, Hostibus invidiosa tuis, et sæpe triumphis Nobilitata novis, pelagi Regina subacti. [TRANSLATION OF THE PRECEDING POEM.[303] By the late A. F. Westmacott, Esq. MEN OF LEARNING, If by chance the following little poem, on the naval glory of Britain, written a few years since, and very lately revised and corrected, please you, look in your nearest tablets for some private and secure place, where it may be placed to enjoy its good fortune. Should you confer on me this favour, I shall be bound to you by the obligation of your kindness. ETONIAN. ON THE NAVAL GLORY OF BRITAIN. If buoy’d by short success and fav’ring chance, Wide Europe’s peace-destroyer, restless France, Each day still onward rush with fresh alarms, And threaten ruin with her furious arms; Ruin to all whereon is based the throne That life’s sweet charities have made their own; Fearest thou, Britain, for thy rock-girt realm, With seas that foam around and whirlpools to o’erwhelm? Still in the midst of ocean firmly placed, Circled by mighty waves thy seat is based! Not by a strait enclosed, as that fair soil Where Fabled Vulcan plies his fiery toil; Within no narrow bay thy waters roll, No yawning gulf, no barrier rocks control. Wider thy space, thy realm no limit knows, Not Tyre so rich, not Tyrian Carthage rose. Wilt thou yet fear, lest here the haughty foe, Thy fields o’er-run, and still unpunished go! Is it then nought to view th’ extended strand O’er which stern crags like beetling turrets stand, And countless ports in safe embrace expand? Look to thy southern waves, to Devon’s fields, Or where green Vectis[304] trusty harbour yields, Spreading her friendly arms; or Dover’s height Looks on the sea with widespread canvas white, And, perched on high, the liquid plain surveys, And adverse cliffs that bound the wat’ry ways.