Wordsworth was, in fact, hampered by some such feelings of disapproval. He even tells us, with that naive affectionateness which often makes us smile, that he has had recourse to the character of his own brother John for the qualities in which the great Admiral appeared to him to have been deficient. But on these hesitations it would be unjust to dwell. I mention them only to bring out the fact that between these two men, so different in outward fates,--between "the adored, the incomparable Nelson" and the homely poet, "retired as noontide dew,"--there was a moral likeness so profound that the ideal of the recluse was realized in the public life of the hero, and, on the other hand, the hero himself is only seen as completely heroic when his impetuous life stands out for us from the solemn background of the poet's calm. And surely these two natures taken together make the perfect Englishman. Nor is there any portrait fitter than that of _The Happy Warrior_ to go forth to all lands as representing the English character at its height--a figure not ill-matching with "Plutarch's men." For indeed this short poem is in itself a manual of greatness; there is a Roman majesty in its simple and weighty speech. And what eulogy was ever nobler than that passage where, without definite allusion or quoted name, the poet depicts, as it were, the very summit of glory in the well-remembered aspect of the Admiral in his last and greatest hour? Whose powers shed round him. In the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life. A constant influence, a peculiar grace: But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, _Is happy as a Lover, and attired With sudden brightness, like a Man inspired_. Or again, where the hidden thought of Nelson's womanly tenderness, of his constant craving for the green earth and home affections in the midst of storm and war, melts the stern verses into a sudden change of tone:-- He who, though thus endued as with a sense And faculty for storm and turbulence. _Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes_; Sweet images! Which, wheresoe'er he be, Are at his heart; and such fidelity It is his darling passion to approve;-- More brave for this, that he hath much to love.