f 909). Ah * 
POE’ Pr: BY. 
ODE for the New Year, 1803. 
By Henry James Pye, Esq. Poet-Laureat. 
HOUGH the tempestuous winds no more 
_ The main with angry pinion sweep, 
‘Though raging ’gainst the sounding shore, 
No longer how! th’ impetuous seas 5 
But sooth’d to rest, the billows sleep, 
Save where soft zephyr’s tepid breeze 
-Fans with its silken wing the rippling deep 5 
Yet still with unremitting eye 
The pilot marks th’ uncertain sky, 
‘The seaman watches still the gale, 
Prompt or to spread or furl the sail, 
Mindful of many a danger past, 
‘Tost by the turbid wave, check’d by the adyerse blast, 
Not keen Suspicion’s jealous glance, 
Not fierce Contention’s feverish rage, 
Shall bid Britannia point the lance 
New realms to grasp, new wars to wage. 
In conscious reétitude elate, 
In conscious power securely great, 
While she beholds the dangerous tide 
Of Battle’s crimson wave subside, 
Though firm she stands in act to dare 
The storms of renovated war, 
Her ready sword, her lifted shield, 
Provoke not the ensanguin’d field, 
More than the wary pilot’s cautions urge 
The wind’s tempestuous strife, or swell the foaming surge. 
O from our shores be, exil’d far Fil 
* Ambition’s wild and restless crew, 
Who through the bleeding paths of war, 
False Glory’s demon form pursue 5 
Whose 
