For Wellesley's star hath risen ascendant there ; Once more he drove the host of France to flight, And triumph'd once again for God and for the right. That was a day, whose influence far and wide Sore hurt, but not to death. For when long care Long time upon the bed of pain he lay And of dark plots might shuddering Europe tell. But Science too her trophies would display; I love thus uncontroll'd, as in a dream, But now in quest of no ambitious height, I where Truth and Nature lead my way, go And ceasing here from desultory flight, In measured strains I tell a Tale of Paraguay. |