Macaulay (Landor)

The dreamy rhymer's measur'd snore Falls heavy on our ears no more; And by long strides are left behind The dear delights of womankind Who win their battles like their loves, In satin waistcoats and kid gloves, And have achiev'd teh crowning work When they have truss'd and skewer'd a Turk. Another comes with stouter tread, And stalks among the statelier dead. He rushes on, and hails by turns High-crested Scott, broad-breasted Burns, And shows the British youth, who ne'er Will lag behind, what Romans were, When all the Tuscans and their Lars Shouted, and shook the tower of Mars.