Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/133

Rh duty, and our situation. It is the balm and cordial of the present life, and a sovereign antidote against the fear of death.

Sed hactenus hæc.—Some smaller pieces, upon less important subjects, close the volume. Not one of them, I believe, was written with a view to publication, but I was unwilling they should be omitted.

Author:John Newton (1725-1807).

, February 18, 1782.

Si te fortè meæ gravis uret sarcina chartæ, Abjicito.—Hor. lib. i, ep. 13 A. told me, I remember, glory, built On selfish principles, is shame and guilt; The deeds that men admire as half divine, Stark naught, because corrupt in their design. Strange doctrine this! that without scruple tears The laurel that the very lightning spares; Brings down the warrior's trophy to the dust, And eats into his bloody sword like rust. B. I grant that, men continuing what they are, Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war; And never meant the rule should be applied; To him that fights with justice on his side. Let laurels, drenched in pure Parnassian dews, Reward his memory, dear to every muse, Who, with a courage of unshaken root, In honour's field advancing his firm foot, Plants it upon the line that justice draws, And will prevail or perish in her cause. 'Tis to the virtues of such men, man owes His portion in the good that Heaven bestows; And when recording History displays Feats of renown, though wrought in ancient days, Tells of a few stout hearts that fought and died Where duty placed them, at their country's side, The man is not moved with what he reads, That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, Unworthy of the blessings of the brave, Is base in kind, and born to be a slave, But let eternal infamy pursue The wretch to nought but his ambition true, Who, for the sake of filling with one blast The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste. Think yourself stationed on a towering rock, To see a people scattered like a flock, Some royal mastiff panting at their heels, With all the savage thirst a tiger feels,