Best of the good-in pagan faith allied To more than Man, by virtue deified.
Memorial Pillar! 'mid the wrecks of Time Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime- The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, Whence half the breathing world received its doom; Things that recoil from language; that, if shown By apter pencil, from the light had flown. A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores, There greets an Embassy from Indian shores; Lo! he harangues his cohorts-there the storm Of battle meets him in authentic form! Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian force, To hoof and finger mailed ;-yet, high or low, None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe; In every Roman, through all turns of fate,
Is Roman dignity inviolate;
Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides, Supports, adorns, and over all presides; Distinguished only by inherent state
From honoured Instruments that round him wait; Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest On aught by which another is deprest. -Alas! that One thus disciplined could toil To enslave whole nations on their native soil; So emulous of Macedonian fame,
That, when his age was measured with his aim, He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories,
And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs : O weakness of the Great! O folly of the Wise !
Where now the haughty Empire that was spread With such fond hope? her very speech is dead; Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies, And Trajan still, through various enterprise, Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies : Still are we present with the imperial Chief, Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined, Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind.
CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR
WHO is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: Whose high endeavours are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright: Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train ! Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature's highest dower; Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives : By objects, which might force the soul to abate Her feeling, rendered more compassionate ; Is placable-because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. --'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He labours good on good to fix, and owes To virtue every triumph that he knows: -Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honourable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire ; Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state;
Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all : Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be called upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw; Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
-He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; Sweet images! which, wheresoe'r he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve ;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love :- 'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted high, Conspicuous object in a Nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity,—
Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not- Plays, in the many games of life, that one Where what he most doth value must be won : Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, From well to better, daily self-surpast :
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must fall, to sleep without his fame, And leave a dead unprofitable name— Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: This is the happy Warrior; this is He That every Man in arms should wish to be.
"WHY, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away?
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