 | A Tribute To The Memory of Lord Nelson |  |
The gentle Muse, a friend to human kind,
Offers no incence to the cruel mind;
The blemish'd palm, which bootless slaughters stain,
She shuns, nor measures praise by millions slain:
The dauntless hero is her chosen theme,
Whom yet Compassion guides with sway supreme.
With wreaths for ever fresh she decks his brows,
Who, flush'd with victory, still to Pity bows.
Such praise best sounds, great Nelson, (for 'tis thine,)
'Midst thousands rescued from the Danish brine,
When the same hand that conquer'd could uprear,
And godlike pity clos'd the work of fear.
Offers no incence to the cruel mind;
The blemish'd palm, which bootless slaughters stain,
She shuns, nor measures praise by millions slain:
The dauntless hero is her chosen theme,
Whom yet Compassion guides with sway supreme.
With wreaths for ever fresh she decks his brows,
Who, flush'd with victory, still to Pity bows.
Such praise best sounds, great Nelson, (for 'tis thine,)
'Midst thousands rescued from the Danish brine,
When the same hand that conquer'd could uprear,
And godlike pity clos'd the work of fear.
| A Tribute To The Memory of Lord Nelson | |