118
In those blest moments, when bright genius pours
At feeling's shrine his tributary stores,
Vainly the imitative arts aspire,
To give thy varying features all their fire;
Yet, though in vain the sculptor seek to trace,
With vent'rous hand thy soul-illumin'd face,
Thy fame a nobler monument shall prove,
Fix'd on the firmest base—a nation's love:
To distant ages shall thy name descend,
And grateful Britons hail Britannia's friend.
At feeling's shrine his tributary stores,
Vainly the imitative arts aspire,
To give thy varying features all their fire;
Yet, though in vain the sculptor seek to trace,
With vent'rous hand thy soul-illumin'd face,
Thy fame a nobler monument shall prove,
Fix'd on the firmest base—a nation's love:
To distant ages shall thy name descend,
And grateful Britons hail Britannia's friend.
