The Gentleman's Magazine, LXXI (November 1801), p. 1028
Composed in the Stone-gallery, above the Dome of
St. Paul's, on the Occasion of the Discomfiture
of the English Boats by the Batteries of Boulogne.
Why mourns my heart, with sympathetic pain,
Those lives just lost on Boulogne's hostile coast;
Why grieves alone for British seamen slain,
The Frenchman's terror, and their country's boast?
Why, when my mind views thousands fall'n beneath
The murd'rous cannon's foul, convulsive ire,
Does no soft tear lament the work of death,
While foreign nations light the funeral pyre!
O Reason! say, why glows the patriot breast,
Proud with the triumphs of its country's arms!
Why, by her failures, are those thoughts imprest,
That fill the trembling nerves with wild alarms?
For, soon Eternity's dark veil shall shade
The selfish hopes of little busy man;
The Briton's ire, the Gaul's fierce wrath shall fade,
And fall to grace their Maker's final plan.