On the Death of Admiral Sir Sidney Smith

I am invited (why ?) in latin phrase
To write thy epitaph.

Two glorious men,
Sydney, have borne thy name through distant lands.
But here no sailor, here no orphan, lifts
His mournful head to read what Rome would write
And place among the noblest, wert thou hers.

Children, in earlier or in later life.
May play grave follies in the sculptured aisle,
And lengthen out in it the stiffer tongue ;
It suits not me to make the rustic stare
And ask what booby never learnt to spell
A name that every cabin-boy has chalkt.
And every sunday-school-girl has prickt out
Upon her sampler for the brighter silk,
The name of Sidney ; of that Admiral
Who left his ship and stood on Acre's tower
Tottering beneath him, and drove back dismayed
The renegate of honor and of God.

More than one realm by that one blow he saved ;
Some by their weakness are about to fall,
Some by their violence... may these fall the first !