Which reason and which virtue erst array'd
To shine in happier days, now quench'd in night.
Thou, Balmis! never mayst return; nor grows
In Europe now the sacred laurel meet
With which to crown thee. There in calm repose,
Where peace and independence a retreat
May find, there rest thee! where thou mayst receive
At length the august reward of deeds so blest.
Nations immense shall come for thee to grieve,
Raising in grateful hymns to Heaven address'd
Thy name with fervorous zeal. And though now laid
In the cold tomb's dark precincts thou refuse
To hear them, listen to them thus convey'd
At least, as in the accents of my Muse.
ON THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.
Not with an easy hand wills Fate to give
Nations, or heroes, power and renown:
Triumphant Rome, whose empire to receive
