ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL BENSON

Northumberland, so proud and sad to-day,

Weep and rejoice, our mother, whom no son

More glorious than this dead and deathless one

Brought ever fame whereon no time shall prey.

Nor heed we more than he what liars dare say

Of mercy's holiest duties left undone

Toward whelps and dams of murderous foes, whom none

Save we had spared or feared to starve and slay.

Alone as Milton and as Wordsworth found

And hailed their England, when from all around

Howled all the recreant hate of envious knaves,

Sublime she stands: while, stifled in the sound,

Each lie that falls from German boors and slaves

Falls but as filth dropt in the wandering waves.