438

DEATH OF SIR JOHN MOORE.

ALL to advantage. The wheels of industry were suspended, for the workmen were swarming along the shore to witness our long procession. But for spectators also in his MAJESTY'S DOCK-YARD, we had an immense number of soldiers rushing down from the barracks with their OFFICERS, whom we plainly distinguished by their gentlemanly appearance and glittering habiliments. These sons of glory I never behold without thinking of the multiplied hardships of ACTUAL SERVICE abroad contrasted with the listless leisure and blandishments of HOME. YE little imagine what evils await your hazardous profession in futurity! May the recent fate of a gallant officer, Sir John Moore, at Corunna, never be YOURS!

Not a DRUM was heard, nor a funeral note,
As his corse to the RAMPART we hurried,

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our HERO was buried!

We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sod with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moon-beam's misty light
And the lantern dimly burning!

No useless coffin inclosed his breast,

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him;
But he lay like a WARRIOR taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him!

Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we stedfastly gaz'd on the face of THE DEAD,
And we bitterly thought on the morrow!

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed

And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow!

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ;

But nothing he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on,
In the grave where a BRITON has laid him!

But half of our heavy task was done

When the clock told the hour for retiring,
And we heard by the distant and random gun
That the foe was suddenly firing!

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his FAME fresh and gory,
We carv'd not a line, we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his GLORY!

UPNOR CASTLE, on the opposite side of the river, next presented itself, built by Queen Elizabeth. A long story is told of her Majesty being confined here. It seems calculated for security. It is in the parish of Frinsbury, and was built by her Majesty in the third year of her reign, having originally about forty guns. Its object was to secure the Medway against the invasion of the enemy. There are other little castles, or forts, reared on the banks of the river, but they need not any particular description. UPNOR CASTLE is now used as a repository for gunpowder, which, however murderous in its operation, is said to have diminished the fury and lessened the havoc

440

FRENCH PRISON-SHIPS.

between contending armies met for mutual destruction.

Gliding along Cockham Wood Reach, we were soon amidst THE FRENCH PRISON-SHIPS, eight or nine in number, containing near ten thousand PRISONERS! Many of these poor creatures, sallow and emaciated, had thus been entombed alive for several years

O WAR, what art thou?

After the brightest conquest what remains

Of all thy glories? For the vanquished―CHAINS-
For the proud VICTOR-what? Alas! to reign
O'er desolated nations-a' drear waste-

By one man's crime, by one man's lust of pow'r
Unpeopled! Naked plains and ravaged fields
Succeed to smiling harvests, and the fruits
Of peaceful olive, luscious fig and vine!
Here rifled temples are the cavern'd dens
Of savage beasts or haunt of birds obscene;
There, populous cities blacken in the sun,
And in the general wreck proud palaces
Lie undistinguished, save by the dun smoke
Of RECENT CONFLAGRATION! When the song
Of dear-bought joy, with many a triumph swell'd,
Salutes the VICTOR's ear and soothes his pride,
How is the grateful harmony profan'd
With the sad dissonance of VIRGINS' cries,

Who mourn their brothers slain; of MATRONS hoar,
Who clasp their wither'd hands and fondly ask
With iteration shrill, their slaughter'd sons!
How is the Laurel's verdure stain'd with blood
And soil'd with WIDOWS' tears!

HANNAH MORE.

FRENCH PRISON-SHIPS.

441

The SHIPS are large and lofty, the upper deck being at an immense height from the water. Their port-holes have their edges whitened, which impart a light appearance; but, crossed with iron bars, they remind us of the loss of dear liberty. The Frenchmen, with their characteristic levity, upon hearing our music, capered out and clapped their hands, forgetting the sorrows of captivity!

In

About a week ago, I visited these PRISON-SHIPS, with my good friend Mr. C-y, and was on board the Glory, the largest of them, for nearly two hours. We inquired for Capt. Symmons, who received us politely, and behaved with the utmost attention. this ship alone were nine hundred prisoners! From the upper deck we looked down upon the captives; we had an excellent view of them, and saw them in all their astonishing varieties. We understood there were some Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, and even Danes, amongst them. These were, at the very time we were on board, draughting off to serve in our menof-war! This seemed to please them; for, ranged on one side of the ship, they went into the cabin singly, for examination; and, having been approved of, they came out the other side, with cheerful countenances, standing close together, and congratulated each other on their approaching liberation. The FRENCH PRISONERS, when we looked down upon them, took considerable notice of us; they nodded and winked, they laughed and gabbled; but we understood little of their conversation. Some were wrestling, others slapping

442

HORRORS OF WAR.

one another's faces; some playing cards, others gaming with a kind of dice in a large trough; some eating cherries, and throwing the stones at their companions indeed, all were engaged, excepting those who, having ascended the forecastle, sat there gazing around in listless vacancy. They were enjoying the breezes of heaven, and viewing, with a sort of eagerness, the spots of land around, which they were allowed to behold, but not visit, in this their abode of Captivity!

The ship was very clean, and every attention was paid to their comfortable accommodation. But yet, Bella, horrida Bella! intruded itself on my mind. WAR, which entails misery upon thousands of the human race, can never have the approbation of the enlightened and generous mind.

Ah! when shall REASON'S intellectual ray

Shed o'er the moral World more perfect day?
When shall that gloomy World appear no more
A waste where desolating tempests roar?
Where savage Discord howls in threat'ning form,
And wild Ambition leads the madd'ning storm;
Where hideous Carnage marks his dangerous way,
And where the screaming Vulture scents his prey ?—
Ab! come, blest CONCORD! chase, with smile serene,
The hostile passions from the human scene!
May GLORY's lofty path be found afar
From agonizing groans and crimson War,
And may the ardent mind that seeks renown,
Claim not the martial but the CIVIC CROWN!

WILLIAMS.

When the above draughting business was over, the Captain took us into the cabin, where he treated