Poem by William Wordsworth

On the Final Submission of the Tyrolese

IT was a 'moral' end for which they fought;
Else how, when mighty Thrones were put to shame,
Could they, poor Shepherds, have preserved an aim,
A resolution, or enlivening thought?
Nor hath that moral good been 'vainly' sought;
For in their magnanimity and fame
Powers have they left, an impulse, and a claim
Which neither can be overturned nor bought.
Sleep, Warriors, sleep! among your hills repose!
We know that ye, beneath the stern control
Of awful prudence, keep the unvanquished soul:
And when, impatient of her guilt and woes,
Europe breaks forth; then, Shepherds! shall ye rise
For perfect triumph o'er your Enemies.

1. To B. R. Haydon
2. To the Memory of Raisley Calvert
3. The Horn of Egremont Castle
4. The Vaudois
5. Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Painted by Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart

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