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, 75
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, 80
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 Whom every Man in arms should wish to be.

ODE

(1807)

85

The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,

The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came.

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, 85

A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,

Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, 90 Some fragment from his dream of human life,

Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival,

A mourning or a funeral,

And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:

Then will he fit his tongue

To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long

Ere this be thrown aside,

And with new joy and pride

95

100

The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous
stage'

With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

106

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE SEPT. 3 1802

Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 5 Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; 10 Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough

Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;

O miserable Chieftain! where and when 5 Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not! do thou

Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind

Powers that will work for thee, air, earth, and skies: