pacts, she will remember as long as her
dykes defend her from the encroachments of the ocean.

When men have eminently distinguished themselves in arts or arms, their
characters should be held up to the public with every mark of honour, to
inspire the young candidate for fame with a generous emulation. There
is a noble enthusiasm in great minds, which not only inclines them to
{84}behold illustrious actions with wonder and delight, but kindles also
a desire of attaining the same degree of excellence. The Romans, who
well knew this principle in human nature, decreed triumphs to their
generals, erected obelisks and statues in commemoration of their
victories; and to this day the cabinet of the antiquarian preserves
records of the victories of a Germanicus, the generosity of a Titus, or
the peaceful virtues of an Antonius. Why then should not England adopt
the practice of the Romans, a people who reached the highest pinnacle of
military glory? It is true that some of our great generals have marble
monuments in Westminster Abbey. But why should not the living enjoy
the full inheritance of their laurels? If they deserve to have their
victories proclaimed to the world by the voice of Fame, let it be when
men are sensible to the sweetness of her trumpet, for she will then
sound like an angel in their ears. Here is the head of a British Hero; a
title seldom conferred, and as seldom merited, till the ardent valour of
the youthful warrior is ripened into the wisdom and cool intrepidity of
the veteran. He entered the service with the principles of a Soldier
and a patriot, the love of fame, and the love of his country. His mind
active and {85}vigorous, burning with the thirst of honour, flew to
posts of danger with a rapidity which gave tenfold value to his military
exertions, and rendered his onsets terrible as resistless. No expedition
appeared to him either difficult or impracticable that was to be
undertaken for the good of the cause he had embarked in. Fortune too
seemed enamoured of his valour, for she preserved his life in many
actions; and, though he cannot stretch forth an arm without shewing
an honourable testimony of the dangers to which he was exposed, he has
still a hand left to wield a sword for the service of his country. As he
is yet in the prime of life, there is nothing too great to be expected
from him. He resembles the immortal Wolfe in his fire and fame. And
oh, for the good of England, that Wolfe, in his fortun