The Man of Kent

Why are our thoughts on lords alone intent? Rise honest muse! and sing The Man of Kent. Pleas'd Medway echoes thro' her winding bounds, While distant Tweed her hoarse applause resounds.

Who form'd the band, that late near Minden's towers Stood first in triumph o'er proud Gallia's powers? The Man of Kent, methinks each soldier says, And grateful lavishes on him the praise. No useless rule did e'er his plan degrade, No idle motion taught for mean parade; He practis'd still each lesson that he gave, Wise was each lesson, pertinent and brave.

When Rochfort, menac'd by impending fate, To British arms half op'd her trembling gate, Who boldly then explor'd the hostile strand, And at the council nobly urg'd to land? The same firm purpose who at home avow'd, The Man of Kent, let all proclaim aloud.

Behold, where Louisbourg declines her head, The Man of Kent the way to conquest led, First on the beach he leapt with ardent haste, And up the rocky steep resistless pass'd; Th' affrighted foe with grief and wonder saw, And bow'd submissive to Britannia's law.

Is there aught else the hero's toil to crown, To tempt ambition, or ensure renown? There is, there is, th' enraptur'd nation cries, And to Quebec directs her zealous eyes; This last, best gift the Man of Kent bestow'd, And seal'd, alas! our title with his blood.

Illustrious chief! thee British youths shall mourn, And pay due homage to thy martial urn; Each matron's breast in sympathy shall heave, Yet sighing wish for such a son to grieve; Each British maid shall weep thy hapless fair, Her love shall pity, envy and revere; Infants unborn shall learn to lisp thy name, And thence shall emulate thy deathless fame. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue What all so wish'd, but wanted power to do. Say, o'er his head what circling years had roll'd? For this, a century was scarce too old. Merit and years in pace full rare agree, All this did he atchieve—at thirty-three.