Not only that thy puissant arm could bind

Not only that thy puissant arm could bind
The tyrant of a world, and, conquering Fate,
Enfranchise Europe, do I deem thee great;
But that in all thy actions I do find
Exact propriety; no gusts of mind
Fitful and wild, but that continuous state
Of order'd impulse mariners await
In some benignant and enriching wind, —

The breath ordain'd of Nature. Thy calm mien
Recalls old Rome as much as thy high deed;
Duty thine only idol, and serene
When all are troubled; in the utmost need
Prescient; thy country's servant ever seen,
Yet sovereign of thyself, whate'er may speed.