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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519660" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Patriotism 2. Nelson, Pitt, Fox</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">TO mute and to material things <br>New life revolving summer brings; <br>The genial call dead Nature hears, <br>And in her glory reappears. <br>But oh, my Country's wintry state <br>What second spring shall renovate? <br>What powerful call shall bid arise <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The buried warlike and the wise; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mind that thought for Britain's weal, <br>The hand that grasp'd the victor steel? <br>The vernal sun new life bestows <br>Even on the meanest flower that blows; <br>But vainly, vainly may he shine <br>Where glory weeps o'er NELSON'S shrine; <br>And vainly pierce the solemn gloom <br>That shrouds, O PITT, thy hallow'd tomb! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep graved in every British heart, <br>O never let those names depart! <br>Say to your sons,--Lo, here his grave, <br>Who victor died on Gadite wave! <br>To him, as to the burning levin, <br>Short, bright, resistless course was given. <br>Where'er his country's foes were found <br>Was heard the fated thunder's sound, <br>Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, <br>Roll'd, blazed, destroy'd--and was no more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor mourn ye less his perish'd worth, <br>Who bade the conqueror go forth, <br>And launch'd that thunderbolt of war <br>On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar; <br>Who, born to guide such high emprise, <br>For Britain's weal was early wise; <br>Alas! to whom the Almighty gave, <br>For Britain's sins, an early grave! <br>--His worth, who in his mightiest hour <br>A bauble held the pride of power, <br>Spurn'd at the sordid lust of pelf, <br>And served his Albion for herself; <br>Who, when the frantic crowd amain <br>Strain'd at subjection's bursting rein, <br>O'er their wild mood full conquest gain'd, <br>The pride he would not crush, restrain'd, <br>Show'd their fierce zeal a worthier cause, <br>And brought the freeman's arm to aid the freeman's laws. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hadst thou but lived, though stripp'd of power, <br>A watchman on the lonely tower, <br>Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, <br>When fraud or danger were at hand; <br>By thee, as by the beacon-light, <br>Our pilots had kept course aright; <br>As some proud column, though alone, <br>Thy strength had propp'd the tottering throne. <br>Now is the stately column broke, <br>The beacon-light is quench'd in smoke, <br>The trumpet's silver voice is still, <br>The warder silent on the hill! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O think, how to his latest day, <br>When Death, just hovering, claim'd his prey, <br>With Palinure's unalter'd mood <br>Firm at his dangerous post he stood; <br>Each call for needful rest repell'd, <br>With dying hand the rudder held, <br>Till in his fall with fateful sway <br>The steerage of the realm gave way. <br>Then--while on Britain's thousand plains <br>One polluted church remains, <br>Whose peaceful bells ne'er sent around <br>The bloody tocsin's maddening sound, <br>But still upon the hallow'd day <br>Convoke the swains to praise and pray; <br>While faith and civil peace are dear, <br>Grace this cold marble with a tear:-- <br>He who preserved them, PITT, lies here! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, <br>Because his rival slumbers nigh; <br>Nor be thy Requiescat dumb <br>Lest it be said o'er Fox's tomb. <br>For talents mourn, untimely lost, <br>When best employ'd, and wanted most; <br>Mourn genius high, and lore profound, <br>And wit that loved to play, not wound; <br>And all the reasoning powers divine <br>To penetrate, resolve, combine; <br>And feelings keen, and fancy's glow-- <br>They sleep with him who sleeps below: <br>And, if thou mourn'st they could not save <br>From error him who owns this grave, <br>Be every harsher thought suppress'd, <br>And sacred be the last long rest. <br>Here, where the end of earthly things <br>Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings; <br>Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, <br>Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung; <br>Here, where the fretted vaults prolong <br>The distant notes of holy song, <br>As if some angel spoke agen, <br>'All peace on earth, good-will to men'; <br>If ever from an English heart, <br>O, here let prejudice depart, <br>And, partial feeling cast aside, <br>Record that Fox a Briton died! <br>When Europe crouch'd to France's yoke, <br>And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, <br>And the firm Russian's purpose brave <br>Was barter'd by a timorous slave-- <br>Even then dishonour's peace he spurn'd, <br>The sullied olive-branch return'd, <br>Stood for his country's glory fast, <br>And nail'd her colours to the mast! <br>Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave <br>A portion in this honour'd grave; <br>And ne'er held marble in its trust <br>Of two such wondrous men the dust. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">With more than mortal powers endow'd, <br>How high they soar'd above the crowd! <br>Theirs was no common party race, <br>Jostling by dark intrigue for place; <br>Like fabled gods, their mighty war <br>Shook realms and nations in its jar; <br>Beneath each banner proud to stand, <br>Look'd up the noblest of the land, <br>Till through the British world were known <br>The names of PITT and Fox alone. <br>Spells of such force no wizard grave <br>E'er framed in dark Thessalian cave, <br>Though his could drain the ocean dry, <br>And force the planets from the sky. <br>These spells are spent, and, spent with these, <br>The wine of life is on the lees. <br>Genius, and taste, and talent gone, <br>For ever tomb'd beneath the stone, <br>Where--taming thought to human pride!-- <br>The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. <br>Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, <br>'Twill trickle to his rival's bier; <br>O'er PITT'S the mournful requiem sound, <br>And Fox's shall the notes rebound. <br>The solemn echo seems to cry, <br>'Here let their discord with them die. <br>Speak not for those a separate doom <br>Whom fate made Brothers in the tomb; <br>But search the land of living men, <br>Where wilt thou find their like agen?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519660" data-title="Patriotism 2. Nelson, Pitt, Fox de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="TO mute and to material things 
New life revolving summer brings; 
The genial call dead Nature hears, 
And in her glory reappears. 
But oh, my Country's wintry state 
What second spring shall renovate? 
What powerful call shall bid arise 
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