EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN,
_A POEM_.

BY ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON AND CO.,
ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.

1812.

PRINTED BY
RICHARD TAYLOR AND CO., SHOE LANE.




EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN.

Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,
O'er the vext nations pours the storm of war:
To the stern call still Britain bends her ear,
Feeds the fierce strife, the alternate hope and fear;
Bravely, though vainly, dares to strive with Fate,
And seeks by turns to prop each sinking state.
Colossal Power with overwhelming force [2]
Bears down each fort of Freedom in its course;
Prostrate she lies beneath the Despot's sway,
While the hushed nations curse him--and obey,