He’ll hurl ye to old Davy’s grotto,
As you’ll imagine from his motto.
Thus monsieur Satan, was quite merry.
So said Milton, Paradise Lost, B. vi. where the hero of the poem (whom I would propose as a model for your worships’ imitation on all occasions) and his merry companions “in gamesome mood stand scoffing,” and “quips cranks,” powder, grape shot, puns, blunderbuss, jokes, and cannon-balls, flash, roar, and bellow in concert.
But I am sure that every candid critic will be disposed to acknowledge that neither Homer nor Milton ever described a battle, fraught with such sublime images and similes, as this in which we are so desperately engaged.
[125] The above ode was written, set to music, and sung on a public occasion in Rutland, Vermont, July, 1798. At that time the armament, which afterwards sailed to Egypt, under Buonaparte, lay at Toulon: its destination was not known in America, but many supposed that it was intended to waft the blessings of French liberty to the United States.
[126] This ode was written to the music of an anthem, previously composed for other words, by Oliver Holden, Esq. Charlestown, Mass., a gentleman eminent for his musical talents, and sung during divine service, at the anniversary of Vermont General Election.
[127] There is an inflated species of simplicity, consisting of exaggerations of thought expressed by colloquial barbarisms, mixed with occasional pomposity of diction, which it is the object of the above to ridicule. The measure is after the model of “Thalaba;” but rhyme is added, as Butler says, merely by way of rudder to the verses.
[128] Killington Peak. The summit of the Green Mountains, in Vermont, is so called.