Lines on the Late Partition of Poland. Catherine Rebecca Grey, Lady Manners Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T173070 Manners, Catherine Rebecca, Lady, 1766 or 1767-1852. Poems by Lady Manners. Second edition. London John Bell 1793 pp. [106]-109. 126p.

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Lines on the Late Partition of Poland . DARK brow'd Nemesis descend , Grasp thy sharp avenging steel : Freedom's holy cause defend , Let her foes thy terrors feel . See , o'er yon devoted land , Stern Oppression's banners wave ! Mercenary Squadrons stand , Helpless Millions to enslave ! Tyrant of the frozen North ! Cannot slow declining age Call a late Repentance forth , And thy thirst of power assuage ? Plac'd on an Imperial throne Crimson'd with thy Consort's blood , Wherefore seek not to atone Evils past , by present good ? Why with restless ardour haste New dominions to obtain , While 'mid chill Siberia's waste Trackless solitudes remain ? Monarch , on whose haughty brows Shines immortal Frederick's crown , Thou who seek'st with broken vows Frederick's power , but not renown : Mark with what indignant eyes Europe views thy lawless deed ! Hark what secret curses rise ! Yet avert them , and recede ! Nor the golden meed so bright , Nor the laurel-wreath , impart , Half that exquisite delight , One good action yields the heart . But if conquest charms thy soul , Lo ! the common Foes of Peace — Gallia's frantic bands controul ; Make her crimes , her sorrows cease ! Join — with real ardour join , In the Universal Cause ! Shield Religion's sacred shrine , Private safety , public laws ! To the generous zeal aspire All in England's Monarch praise ; Emulate with kindred fire York's and Cobourg's well-earn'd bays . So shall Justice point thy sword , And direct thy road to fame ; So shall white-rob'd Peace restor'd 'Mid her heroes grave thy name . Idle hopes ! nor just remorse , Nor surrounding nations hate , Check the Despots — tyrant force Seals already Poland's fate . Injur'd Realm , yet cease to pine , Let reflection sooth thy woes : Transient servitude is thine , Everlasting shame thy foes .