TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON

Because thou hast believed, the wheels of life

Stand never idle, but go always round;

Not by their hands, who vex the patient ground,

Moved only; but by genius, in the strife

Of all its chafing torrents after thaw,

Urged; and to feed whose movement, spinning sand,

The feeble sons of pleasure set their hand;

And, in this vision of the general law,

Hast labour'd, but with purpose; hast become

Laborious, persevering, serious, firm —

For this, thy track, across the fretful foam

Of vehement actions without scope or term,

Call'd history, keeps a splendour; due to wit,

Which saw one clue to life, and follow'd it.