To colour; none imbues the honest heart; To science none belongs, and none to art. Oh! _Muse_, of blackest tint, why shrinks thy breast. Why fears t' approach the _Caesar_ of the _West!_ Dispel thy doubts, with confidence ascend The regal dome, and hail him for thy friend: Nor blush, altho' in garb funereal drest, _Thy body's white, tho' clad in sable vest_. Manners unsullied, and the radiant glow Of genius, burning with desire to _know_; And learned speech, with modest accent worn, Shall best the sooty _African_ adorn. An heart with wisdom fraught, a patriot flame. A love of virtue; these shall lift his name Conspicuous, far beyond his kindred race, Distinguish'd from them by the foremost place. In this prolific isle I drew my birth, And _Britain_ nurs'd, illustrious through the earth; This, my lov'd isle, which never more shall grieve, Whilst you our common friend, our father live. Then this my pray'r--"My earth and heaven survey "A people ever blest, beneath your sway!" The following translation of this poem has been supplied by Mr. E.J. Chinock, M.A., LL.B.: A Poem in Honour of Sir George Haldane, Knt., A most virtuous and brave man, Governor of the island of Jamaica, on whom all the endowments of morals and of warlike virtues have been accumulated. Since the Fates wish the year should come at last, all the joys which are to be seen through a lengthened day are present. The people having shaken off their anxieties, are prosperous under a bright image, and the land flourishing under law. While thou art ruler, the useless things which had been done by an ill-advising mind will not return at thy appearance. Therefore, all the people, even the rabble, will see that thou hast removed the yoke clinging to their necks, and the ills which the guiltless island has formerly endured with dreadful tortures. The burden would have been excessively painful did not thy victorious hand, previously renowned for valour, wish of its own accord to aid our state going to ruin. The British King has no better servant than thou art, whilst Scotland rejoices in thy talent. Thou are the best of heroes to prop up the fall of a nation; while the island survives, the memory of thee will also survive. Quadaloupe will recognise thee as her conqueror, and will deservedly despise the plundered camps of its governors. The golden Iris will weep for her boastful standards, and together with her inhabitants will groan for the conquered towns. Believe me, it is not in my power, O man, dear to Mars! Minerva denies to an Ethiopian to celebrate the wars of generals. Buchanan would sing thee in a poem, he would describe thee as equal to Achilles in counsel and in war.