_Impromptu on seeing the Monuments in St. Paul’s Cathedral covered with
scrawled names._
Oh! for a curse upon his head
Who dares insult the noble dead,
And basely scrawl his worthless name
Upon the records of their fame!
Nelson, arise! thy country gave
A heartfelt tear, a hallow’d grave:
Her eyes are dry, her recreant sons
Dare to profane thy mould’ring bones!
And you, ye heroes of the past,
Who serv’d your country to the last,
And bought her freedom with your blood,
Cornwallis, Duncan, Collingwood!
Rise, if ye can, and mark the wretch
Who dares his impious arm to stretch
And scrawl upon the graves of those
Who gave him freedom and repose!
And can no rev’rence for the dead
Ye heartless crew, no sense of dread
To place your names on aught so high
As e’en the tombs where heroes lie,
Force you with horror to recede
From such a sacrilegious deed?
Go, spread it to the winds of heaven,
That they, who to our isle have giv’n
Their blood, their services, their breath,
Sleep in dishonoured graves in Death.