William Cowper

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

Praise enough
To fill the ambition of a private man,
That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Without one friend, above all foes,
Britannia gives the world repose.

Without one friend, above all foes,
Britannia gives the world repose.

By low ambition and the thirst of praise.

By low ambition and the thirst of praise.

Now stir the fire, and close the shudders fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
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Now stir the fire, and close the shudders fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.