While music swells the homely linnet’s throat,
And on the yielding air the little swallows float.
I boast no beauty then, I boast no size,
Since nought but merit true can gain the prize:
If so, I boldly call that prize my own,
And claim, whoe’er oppose that claim, the throne.
If warlike feats, if deeds of high renown,
Bravely perform’d, on men bestow the crown,
Like right is mine, who still am heard afar,
The dreadful harbinger of glorious war;