The Heroines of England

Hereditary honours who confers?
God; God alone. Not Marlboro's heir enjoys
A Marlboro's glory. Ye may paste on walls,
Thro' city after city, rubric bills,
Large-letter'd, but ere long they all peel off,
And others take their places. 'Tis not thus
Where genius stands; no monarch here bestows,
No monarch takes away; above his reach
Are these dotations, yea, above his sight.
Despise I then the great? no; witness Heaven!
None better knows or venerates them higher,
Or lives among them more familiarly.
Am I a sycophant, and boaster too?
A little of a boaster, I confess,
No sycophant. Now let me teach my lore.
Those are the great who purify the hearts,
Raise lofty aspirations from the breasts,
And shower down wisdom on the heads of men.
( Children can give, exchange, and break their toys,
But giants can not wrench away the gifts
The wise, however humble, may impart.
I have seen princes, but among them all
None I would own my equal; I have seen
Laborious men, and patient, Virtue's sons,
Men beyond Want, yet not beyond the call
Of strict frugality from ember'd hearth,
And inly cried, " O, were I one of these!"
How many verses, verses not inept,
But stampt for lawful weight and sterling ore,
Are worth one struggle to exalt our kind!
Here let me back my coursers, and turn round.
Hereditary honours! few indeed
Are those they fall to. Norton! Dufferin!
Rich was your grandsire in the mines of wit,
Strong in the fields of eloquence, but poor
And feeble was he when compared with you.
O glorious England! never shone the hour
With half so many lights; and most of these
In female hands are holden. Gone is she
Who shrouded Casa- Bianca she who cast
The iron mould of Iran, yet whose song
Was soft and varied as the nightingale's,
And heard above all others. Few are they
Who well weigh gems: instead of them we see
Flat noses, cheek by jowl, not over-nice,
Nuzzle weak wash in one long shallow trough:
Let me away from them! fresh air for me!
I must to higher ground.
What glorious forms
Advance! No man so lofty, so august.
In troops descend bright-belted Amazons . .
But where is Theseus in the field to-day?