The New Hampshire Gazette

PORTSMOUTH.

A Timely Caution on the present Expedition.

I HOPE! 'tis in vain to rest it where
The Strength of Hosts or Fleets appear;
In vain we turn our wishful Eyes,
To seek for Help below the Skies.
When Sums immense prepare the Way,
And Potent Fleets divide the Sea:
The boldest Heroes to command.
Or Millions thunder o'er the Land:
When Expectations league embrace,
And Noise and Number boast Success;
Combining Elements may Say,
This Pride of Nations seen to Day,
E'er the next Morn Smile on the World.
In vast Destruction shall be hurl'd.
Has Time eras'd, or know we where
Imperious Gaul* mov'd adverse War.
Whose barbarous Chieftains held on board
Death's Dangers, Rage and Fire and Sword:
Fear shook our Joints, our Village pale,
Proclaim'd the stoutest Hearts to fail;
When pitying Heaven saw our Distress)
And unexpected sent Redress;
The winds commission'd to pursue,
Hurl'd headlong Ruin on the Foe;
While we beheld with wondring Eyes
And joyful Hearts, the Echo raise.
Great was the Work, the Pow'r divine,
And all the Glory Lord be thine.
Shall we then make our impious Boast,
Of mighty Fleets and num'rous Hosts;
Our Fleets a Bubble in his Hand,
Our Army all a ruin'd Band.
Has not two Twelvemonths as they roll
This Truth in dreadful Language told?
And do we still another claim?
And wait if this support the Same.
Lord we address thy Sacred Throne,
Thy Pow'r thy Might thy Wisdom own:
Thou who on gloomy Tempests ride,
And calms the Sea's tumultuous Pride:
By thee the Weak a Bulwark stands,
Or Nations Sink beneath thy Hands:
Our Hopes of Vict'ry here we place,
Not for our Merits, but thy Grace.