Read "The True-Born Englishman" by Daniel Defoe online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The fame of virtue 'tis for which I sound, And heroes with immortal triumphs crown'd; Fame built on solid virtue swifter flies, Than morning light can spread the eastern skies: The gath'ring air returns the doubling sound; And loud repeating thunders force it round; Echoes return from caverns of the deep, Old Chaos dreams on't in eternal sleep: Time hands it forward to its latest urn, From whence it never, never shall return: Nothing is heard so far, or lasts so long, 'Tis heard by ev'ry ear, and spoke by every tongue.
My hero, with the sails of honour furl'd, Rises like the great genius of the world; By fate and fame wisely prepared to be The soul of war and life of victory; He spreads the wings of virtue on the throne, And ev'ry wind of glory fans them on; Immortal trophies dwell upon his brow, Fresh as the garlands he has won but now.