Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 5.djvu/632

592 And raise it in his followers—"Ho! the bowl!"

Lest passion should return to reason's shoal.

"Brandy for heroes!" Burke could once exclaim—

No doubt a liquid path to Epic fame;

And such the new-born heroes found it here,

And drained the draught with an applauding cheer.

"Huzza! for Otaheite!" was the cry.

How strange such shouts from sons of Mutiny!

The gentle island, and the genial soil,

The friendly hearts, the feasts without a toil,

The courteous manners but from nature caught,

The wealth unhoarded, and the love unbought;

Could these have charms for rudest sea-boys, driven

Before the mast by every wind of heaven?

And now, even now prepared with others' woes

To earn mild Virtue's vain desire, repose?

Alas! such is our nature! all but aim

At the same end by pathways not the same;

Our means—our birth—our nation, and our name,

Our fortune—temper—even our outward frame,

Are far more potent o'er our yielding clay

Than aught we know beyond our little day,

Yet still there whispers the small voice within,