Climbing the mighty period of his years, The British oak his giant bulk uprears; He, in his strength, while toll'd the passing bell, Rejoic'd whole centuries as thy victims fell: Armies have bled, and shouts of vict'ry rung, Fame crown'd _their_ deaths, _thy_ deaths are all unsung: 'Twas thine, while victories claim'd th' immortal lay, Through private life to cut thy desperate way; And when full power the wondrous magnet gave Ambition's sons to dare the ocean wave, Thee, in their train of horrid ills, they drew Beneath the blessed sunshine of Peru [3]. [Footnote 3: In 1520, says Mr. Woodville, when the small-pox visited New Spain, it proved fatal to one half of the people in the provinces to which the infection extended; being carried thither by a negro slave, who attended Narvaez in his expedition against Cortes. He adds, about fifty years after the discovery of Peru, The small-pox was carried over from Europe to America by way of Carthagena, when it overran the Continent of the New World, and destroyed upwards of 100,000 Indians in the single province of Quito.--_Hist. of Inoculation._] But why unskill'd th' historic page explore? Why thus pursue thee to a foreign shore? A homely narrative of days gone by, Familiar griefs, and kindred's tender sigh Shall still survive; for thou on ev'ry mind Hast left some traces of thy wrath behind. There dwelt, beside a brook that creeps along Midst infant hills and meads unknown to song, One to whom poverty and faith were giv'n, Calm village silence, and the hope of heav'n: Alone she dwelt; and while each morn brought peace And health was smiling on her years' increase, Sudden and fearful, rushing through her frame, Unusual pains and feverish symptoms came. Then, when debilitated, faint, and poor, How sweet to hear a footstep at her door! To see a neighbour watch life's silent sand, To hear the sigh, and feel the helping hand! Soon woe o'erspread the interdicted ground, And consternation seiz'd the hamlets round: Uprose the pest--its widow'd victim died; And foul contagion spread on ev'ryside; The helping neighbour for her kind regard, Bore home _that_ dreadful tribute of reward, _Home_, where six children, yielding to its pow'r, Gave hope and patience a most trying hour; One at her breast still drew the living stream, And, sense of danger never marr'd his dream; Yet all exclaim'd, and with a pitying eye, "Whoe'er survives the shock, _that child will die!_" But vain the fiat,--Heav'n restor'd them all, And destin'd one of riper years to fall. Midnight beheld the close of all his pain, His grave was clos'd when midnight came again; No bell was heard to toll, no funeral pray'r, No kindred bow'd, no wife, no children there; Its horrid nature could inspire a dread That cut the bonds of custom like a thread The humble church-tow'r higher seem'd to shew, Illumin'd by their trembling light below; The solemn night-breeze struck each shiv'ring check; Religious reverence forbade to speak: