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LIFE OF COOK.
The tender argument of kindred blood,
Nor would endure, that any should control.
His free born brethren of the southern pole.
But though some nobler minds a law respect,
That none shall with impunity neglect,
In baser souls unnumber'd evils meet,
To thwart its influence, and its end defeat;
While Cook is lov'd for savage lives he sav'd,
See Cortez odious for a world enslav'd!
Nor would endure, that any should control.
His free born brethren of the southern pole.
But though some nobler minds a law respect,
That none shall with impunity neglect,
In baser souls unnumber'd evils meet,
To thwart its influence, and its end defeat;
While Cook is lov'd for savage lives he sav'd,
See Cortez odious for a world enslav'd!
In France, as well as in Britain, the great navigator was lamented. M. l'Abbé Lisle concludes his poem 'Les Jardins' with an encomium on Cook, of which the following lines are a translation:—
Give, give me flowers; with garlands of renown
Those glorious exiles' brows my hands shall crown,
Who nobly sought on distant coasts to find,
Or thither bore those arts that bless mankind:
Thee chief, brave Cook, o'er whom, to nature dear,
With Britain, Gallia drops the pitying tear.
To foreign climes, and rude, where nought before
Announc'd our vessels but their cannons' roar,
Far other gifts thy better mind decreed,
The sheep, the heifer, and the stately steed;
The plough, and all thy country's arts; the crimes
Atoning thus of earlier savage times:
With peace each land thy bark was wont to hail,
And tears and blessings fill'd thy parting sail.
Receive a stranger's praise! Nor, Britain, thou
Forbid these wreaths to grace thy hero's brow,
Nor scorn the tribute of a foreign song,
For Virtue's sons to every land belong:
And shall the Gallic muse disdain to pay
The meed of worth, when Louis leads the way?
Those glorious exiles' brows my hands shall crown,
Who nobly sought on distant coasts to find,
Or thither bore those arts that bless mankind:
Thee chief, brave Cook, o'er whom, to nature dear,
With Britain, Gallia drops the pitying tear.
To foreign climes, and rude, where nought before
Announc'd our vessels but their cannons' roar,
Far other gifts thy better mind decreed,
The sheep, the heifer, and the stately steed;
The plough, and all thy country's arts; the crimes
Atoning thus of earlier savage times:
With peace each land thy bark was wont to hail,
And tears and blessings fill'd thy parting sail.
Receive a stranger's praise! Nor, Britain, thou
Forbid these wreaths to grace thy hero's brow,
Nor scorn the tribute of a foreign song,
For Virtue's sons to every land belong:
And shall the Gallic muse disdain to pay
The meed of worth, when Louis leads the way?
Other nations participated in the same feelings. Baron Plettenberg and the Dutch officers at the Cape, were much affected at seeing the ships
