Wellington

Great captain if you will! great Duke! great Slave! Great minion of the crown! - but a great man He was not! He? the iron instrument Of mere authority! the atheist Of a conventional and most earthy duty! To whom the powers that be were simply not Of God-but in His stead! Shall we belie All righteous instinct and profane all truth, By calling great a man without a soul? One who, apart from the despotic wills Of crowned oppressors, knew no right, no wrong. No faith, no country, and no brotherhood? If such a man were great, may God most High Spare henceforth to our universal race All greatness, seeing it may sometimes be A rigid, kindiess battlement of Power Self throned and sanctioned only by the sword. And if' as Englishmen are proud to boast, He was their greatest countryman-alas! For England's national sterility! But they who thus belaud him, lie, as all True patriots most feelingly perceive. Besides, he was not England's son at all: He was an Irishman, with whom the name Of Ireland was a scoff! An Irishman, Who for a hireling's meed and ministry, Could tear away from his inhuman heart The pleading image of his native land.