Mark Akenside

For a Statue of Chaucer at Woodstock

SUCH was old Chaucer. Such the placid mien
Of him who first with harmony informed
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.