While History's Muse the memorial was keeping <br />Of all that the dark hand of Destiny weaves, <br />Beside her the Genius of Erin stood weeping, <br />For hers was the story that blotted the leaves. <br />But oh! how the tear in her eyelids grew bright, <br />When, after whole pages of sorrow and shame, <br />She saw History write, <br />With a pencil of light <br />That illumed the whole volume, her Wellington's name. <br /> <br />"Yet still the last crown of thy toils is remaining, <br />The grandest, the purest, even thou hast yet known; <br />Though proud was thy task, other nations unchaining, <br />Far prouder to heal the deep wounds of thy own. <br />At the foot of that throne, for whose weal thou hast stood, <br />Go, plead for the land that first cradled thy fame, <br />And, bright o'er the flood <br />Of her tears, and her blood, <br />Let the rainbow of Hope be her Wellington's name."<br /><br />Thomas Moore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/while-history-s-muse/
