Sonnet Xlviii. Gladstone.

FOR Peace, and all that follows in her path — Nor slighting honor and his country's fame, He stood unmoved, and dared to face the blame Of party-spirit and its turbid wrath. He saw in vision the dread aftermath, Should war once kindle its world-circling flame Through Asian tribes that bear the British name. Time few such crises for a people hath, And few such leaders. Calmly he pursued A course at which the feebler spirits sneered, The bolder fumed with clamor loud and rude. And while the world still doubted, hoped, and feared, This chief a bloodless victory hath won — Britannia's wisest, best, and bravest son.