Classic Poem

Not only that thy puissant arm could bind
The Tyrant of a world and, conquering fate,
Enfranchise Europe, so I deem thee great:
But that in all thy actions I do find
Exact propriety: no gusts of mind
Fitful and wild, but that continuous state
Of ordered impulse mariners await,
In some benignant and enriching wind,
The break ordained of nature. Thy calm mien
Recalls old Rome as much as thy high deed;
Duty thy only idol, and serene
When all are troubled; in the utmost need
Prescient thy country's servant ever seen,
Yet sovereign of thyself whate'er may speed.