The heroes of the present and the past
Were puny, vague, and nothingness to thee
Thou didst a span grasp mighty to the last
And strain for glory when thy die was cast
That little island, on the Atlantic sea
Was but a dust-spot in a lake: thy mind
Swept space as shoreless as eternity
Thy giant powers outstript this gaudy age
Of heroes; and, as looking at the sun
So gazing on thy greatness, made men blind
To merits, that had adoration won
In olden times. The world was on thy page
Of victories but a comma. Fame could find
No parallel, thy greatness to presage