Such was old Chaucer. such the placid mien Of him who first with harmony inform'd The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. these ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life: through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world
With cunning hand portraying. Though perchance From Blenheim's towers, o stranger, thou art come Glowing with Churchill's trophies; yet in vain Dost thou applaud them, if thy breast be cold To him, this other hero; who, in times Dark and untaught, began with charming verse To tame the rudeness of his native land.