Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
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Britannia needs no bulwarks
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain wave,
Her home is on the deep.
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name.
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name.
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
What we might call, by way of Eminence, the Dismal Science.
What we might call, by way of Eminence, the Dismal Science.
