A Roman Master Stands on Grecian Ground
When, Far and Wide, Swift as the Beams of Morn
Clarkson! It was an Obstinate Hill to Climb
High Deeds, O Germans, are to Come from You
Clouds, Lingering Yet, Extend in Solid Bars
Go Back to Antique Ages, if Thine Eyes.
Not 'Mid the World's Vain Objects! that Enslave
I Dropped My Pen; and Listened to the Wind
Of Mortal Parents is the Hero Born
Advance-Come Forth from Thy Tyrolean Ground
The Land We from Our Fathers Had in Trust
Alas! What Boots the Long, Laborious Quest
And is it Among Rude Untutored Dales
O'er the Wide Earth on Mountain and on Plain
On the Final Submission of the Tyrolese.
Say, what is Honour ?-'Tis the Finest Sense
The Martial Courage of a Day is Vain
Call not the Royal Swede Unfortunate
Look now on that Adventurer who hath Paid
Is there a Power that can Sustain and Cheer
Ah! where is Palafox? Nor Tongue nor Pen
In Due Observance of an Ancient Rite
Yet, yet, Biscayans! we must Meet our Foes
Oak of Guernica! Tree of Holier Power .
We can Endure that He should Waste our Lands
Avaunt all Specious Pliancy of Mind
O'erweening Statesmen have full long Relied
Hunger, and Sultry Heat, and Nipping Blast
They Seek, are Sought; to Daily Battle Led
The Power of Armies is a Visible Thing .
Here Pause: the Poet Claims at Least this Praise
Humanity, Delighting to Behold
Ye Storms, Resound the Praises of your King
Abruptly Paused the Strife;-the Field throughout
Now that all Hearts are Glad, all Faces Bright
Dear Reliques! from a Pit of Vilest Mould