To Lieutenant-General Sir Rowland Hill, K.B.

Hill! whose high daring with renewed success
Hath cheered our tardy war, what time the cloud
Of expectation, dark and comfortless,
Hung on the mountains; and yon factious crowd
Blasphemed their country's valour, babbling loud!
Then was thine arm revealed, to whose young might,
By Toulon's leaguered wall, the fiercest bowed;
Whom Egypt honoured, and the dubious fight
Of sad Corunna's winter, and more bright
Douro, and Talavera's gory bays;
Wise, modest, brave, in danger foremost found. —
So still, young warrior, may thy toil-earned praise,
With England's love and England's honour crowned,
Gild with delight thy father's latter days!