The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 6Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
General
The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 6
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron
English poetry
I am no flatterer--you've supped full of flattery:[482]
They say you like it too--'t is no great wonder.
He whose whole life has been assault and battery,
At last may get a little tired of thunder;
And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he
May like being praised for every lucky blunder,
Called "Saviour of the Nations"--not yet saved,--
And "Europe's Liberator"--still enslaved.[483]
VI.
I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate
Presented by the Prince of the Brazils,
And send the sentinel before your gate
A slice or two from your luxurious meals:[484]
He fought, but has not fed so well of late.
Some hunger, too, they say the people feels:--
There is no doubt that you deserve your ration,
But pray give back a little to the nation.
VII.
I don't mean to reflect--a man so great as
You, my lord Duke! is far above reflection:
The high Roman fashion, too, of Cincinnatus,
With modern history has but small connection:
Though as an Irishman you love potatoes,
You need not take them under your direction;
And half a million for your Sabine farm
Is rather dear!--I'm sure I mean no harm.
VIII.
Great men have always scorned great recompenses:
Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died,
Not leaving even his funeral expenses:[485]
George Washington had thanks, and nought beside,
Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is)
To free his country: Pitt too had his pride,
And as a high-souled Minister of state is
Renowned for ruining Great Britain gratis.[486]
IX.
Never had mortal man such opportunity,
Except Napoleon, or abused it more:
You might have freed fallen Europe from the unity
Of Tyrants, and been blest from shore to shore:
And _now_--what is your fame? Shall the Muse tune it ye?
_Now_--that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er?
Go! hear it in your famished country's cries!
Behold the World! and curse your victories!
X.
As these new cantos touch on warlike feats,
To _you_ the unflattering Muse deigns to inscribe[iu]
Truths, that you will not read in the Gazettes,
But which 't is time to teach the hireling tribe
Who fatten on their country's gore, and debts,
Must be recited--and without a bribe.
You _did great_ things, but not being _great_ in mind,
Have left _undone_ the _greatest_--and mankind.
XI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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