A Poem after Culloden-battle by an Officer

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389 (389)
On a late Defeat, 1746
said to have been composed
by a Scots Gentleman, an
Officer in the Dutch service.

Canst thou, my Muse, such Desolation view,

such dreadful HavockHavoc ‘mongamong yethe loyal Few;

Vile Murders, Robbery, consuming Fire,

Mothers, wtwith tender Infants, starv’d, expire:

Daggers &and Death in ev’ryevery hideous Face,

Theat’ningThreatening Destruction to yethe Northern Race:

Villains contending, with a dev’lishdevilish Joy,

Who first shall plunder, or go first destroy:

Successful Tyranny, &and laurel’dlaurelled Vice;

The Gods assisting Him, qowho Heav’nHeaven defies;

Seeming to spurn yethe good, th’the illustrious youth,

Renown’dRenowned for Mercy, Piety &and Truth;

Reluctant fighting Passage to a Crown,

Which none but Bigot-whigs deny his own?

Canst thou behold, &and still thy Grief suppress,

Our Prince &and Country in so deep Distress?

Nor, fir’dfired wtwith Indignation, aid my Pen

To lash yethe cruel Deeds of guilty Men?

RouzeRouse, rouzerouse, my Muse, &and curse yethe hated Cause

Of lost Religion, Liberty and Laws!

Thy Freedom, Scotland, in one fatal Hour,

Is sacrific’dsacrificed (alas) to lawless Pow’rPower!

All, All is lost! no Spark of Hope remains;

Death only now, or Banishment &and Chains!

Hard Fate of War! how hast thou chang’dchanged yethe Scene;

What just, what glorious EnterprizeEnterprise made vain?

Pale Nature trembles, general Decay

Succeeds yethe Horrors of th’the unlucky Day.
The 390 (390)
The good, the brave in Sympathy unite,

Amaz’dAmazed! that Heav’nHeaven did not maintain yethe Fight.

Despairing Beauty languishes to see

Such Virtue vanquish’dvanquished in a righteous Plea!

Has godlike Charles (such match lessmatchless glories past!)

Conquer’dConquered so oft to be subdued at last?

These valiant Chiefs, qmwhom native Courage fir’dfired,

Their exil’dexiled King’s &and Country’s Wrongs inspir’dinspired,

T’To assert yethe Rights each one enjoy’denjoyed before,

And King, &and Country’s Liberties restore;

Failing in that, wtwith just Contempt of Life,

Resolv’dResolved to perish ‘midstamidst yethe glorious Strife:

Must these true Heroes, ysethese great patriots, yield,

And the Usurper’s Forces keep yethe Field?

A bloody, perjur’dperjured, mercenary Crew,

Who fled but lately qmwhom they now pursue;

Like Fiends of Hell, by worse than Dæmon, led,

They kill yethe wounded, &and they rob yethe Dead!

O! act of horror! more than savage Rage,

Unparallel’dUnparallelled in any former Age.

CurstCursed be yethe barb’rousbarbarous executing Hand,

And doubly curstcursed, who gave yethe dire Command!

A Deed so monstrous, shocking ev’neven to name!

To all Eternity ‘twillit will damn their Fame.

Ah! why, just Heav’nHeaven! (but Heav’nHeaven ordain’dordained it so)

Are impious Men allow’dallowed to rule below?

Why does Misfortune still attend yethe Best,

Whilst those wtwith Life’s supreme delights are blestblessed?

Perplexing MisteryMystery to human Sense,

The wonderful Decree of Providence!
But 391 (391)
But Virtue, happy in her self, can bear

(The Ills of Life most seemingly severe)

Whatever Fate the Gods allot here;

Convinc’dConvinced, that earthly Happiness is vain,

And most of Pleasure’s only Rest from Pain:

No Shocks of Fortune can her Peace destroy,

Deserving Bliss, indiff’rentindifferent to enjoy.

Calm &and serene amidst yethe Wrecks of Fate,

As ne’ernever exalted in a prosp’rousprosperous State,

She bears Adversity with stedfast Mind,

To Heav’n’sHeaven's Decrees religiously resigndresigned.

Some time, perhaps, fair Virtue will take Place,

Shining conspicuous in the Royal Race,

To bless the Land with Liberty &and Peace.

Tyrants subdu’dsubdued shall tremble at her Nod,

And learn, that Virtue is the Cause of God.