FORTY LINES ON WELLINGTON.
I
Though shaded by death, yet his glory remains
Like beams on the billow when day-light is set;
And deeper than language the sorrow that pains
The heart of a Nation, enshrining him yet.
II
Oh! his was a greatness the good can admire,
Which Virtue may laurel, and Vice only dread;
And pure as the principles Truth can inspire
The wreath of renown which encircles his head.
III
From peasant to peer, from the cot to the throne
The thrills of dejection pervadingly ran,
When the myriad-wing'd Press to Europe made known
The death of a leader in Liberty's van.
IV
The soar of an eagle when sweeping its flight,
The heart of a lion which throbs o'er his prey,
But weakly can image the worth and the might
Of Wellington marching in battle-array.
V
Resistless in conflict, but simple and stern,
Serene in the tempest, and calm in the shock,
Let the valour of Youth thus patiently learn
When the whirlwind is raving,—to rival the rock!
VI
A Cæsar in battle, and Cato at home,
Protecting our Altars from infidel-hate,
We challenge the records of haughty old Rome
To boast of a Hero so gallant and great.
VII
When the war-hounds of France in horrors of blood
Had raven'd on Freedom, and outraged her laws,
The bulwark of Empires, brave Wellington stood,
And stifled Rebellion by quenching her cause.
VIII
Thus, onward he triumphs in prowess and pride,
A king of all subjects, yet subject to kings;
Till the banners of England wave out far and wide
And Earth o'er her ransom with jubilee rings.
IX
A pillar of Patriots, the foremost and first,
Erect in his grandeur of spirit and zeal
Ambition ne'er saw him, by self-aims accurst,
Pursue the bad triumphs we blush to reveal.
X
Then, deepen for ever the homage and praise
From past and from present, to Wellington due,
And hallow the glory which brightens the bays
He won for Mankind, when he gain'd Waterloo.
