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 | The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes |  |
From Spain to Britain is a goodly stride,—
Madrid and London long-stretched leagues divide.
What if I send him, “Uncle S., says he,”
To my good cousin whom he calls “J. B.”?
A nation's servants go where they are sent,—
He heard his Uncle's orders, and he went.
Madrid and London long-stretched leagues divide.
What if I send him, “Uncle S., says he,”
To my good cousin whom he calls “J. B.”?
A nation's servants go where they are sent,—
He heard his Uncle's orders, and he went.
By what enchantments, what alluring arts,
Our truthful James led captive British hearts,—
Whether his shrewdness made their statesmen halt,
Or if his learning found their Dons at fault,
Or if his virtue was a strange surprise,
Or if his wit flung star-dust in their eyes,—
Like honest Yankees we can simply guess;
But that he did it all must needs confess.
England herself without a blush may claim
Her only conqueror since the Norman came.
Our truthful James led captive British hearts,—
Whether his shrewdness made their statesmen halt,
Or if his learning found their Dons at fault,
Or if his virtue was a strange surprise,
Or if his wit flung star-dust in their eyes,—
Like honest Yankees we can simply guess;
But that he did it all must needs confess.
England herself without a blush may claim
Her only conqueror since the Norman came.
Eight years an exile! What a weary while
Since first our herald sought the mother isle!
His snow-white flag no churlish wrong has soiled,—
He left unchallenged, he returns unspoiled.
Since first our herald sought the mother isle!
His snow-white flag no churlish wrong has soiled,—
He left unchallenged, he returns unspoiled.
| The complete poetical works of Oliver Wendell Holmes | |