The hundred years have passed, and he <br />Whose name appeased a nation's fears, <br />As with a hand laid over sea; <br />To thunder through the foeman's ears <br />Defeat before his blast of fire; <br />Lives in the immortality <br />That poets dream and noblest souls desire. <br /> <br />Never did nation's need evoke <br />Hero like him for aid, the while <br />A Continent was cannon-smoke <br />Or peace in slavery: this one Isle <br />Reflecting Nature: this one man <br />Her sea-hound and her mortal stroke, <br />With war-worn body aye in battle's van. <br /> <br />And do we love him well, as well <br />As he his country, we may greet, <br />With hand on steel, our passing bell <br />Nigh on the swing, for prelude sweet <br />To the music heard when his last breath <br />Hung on its ebb beside the knell, <br />And VICTORY in his ear sang gracious Death. <br /> <br />Ah, day of glory! day of tears! <br />Day of a people bowed as one! <br />Behold across those hundred years <br />The lion flash of gun at gun: <br />Our bitter pride; our love bereaved; <br />What pall of cloud o'ercame our sun <br />That day, to bear his wreath, the end achieved. <br /> <br />Joy that no more with murder's frown <br />The ancient rivals bark apart. <br />Now Nelson to brave France is shown <br />A hero after her own heart: <br />And he now scanning that quick race, <br />To whom through life his glove was thrown, <br />Would know a sister spirit to embrace.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/october-21-1905/
