Far hence th’ unmanly thought—the voice of Fame
Wafts o’er th’ applauding deep her Duncan’s name.
What though the Conqueror of th’ Italian plains
Deem nothing gain’d, while this fair isle remains;
Though his young breast with rash presumption glow,
He braves the vengeance of no vulgar foe:
Conqueror no more, full soon his laurel’d pride
Shall perish—whelm’d in Ocean’s angry tide;
His broken bands shall rue the fatal day,
And scatter’d fleets proclaim Britannia’s sway.