O ancient warrior! as we hail thee,

And behold thy cordial smile,

We hope that greetings ne'er may fail thee,

Such as those of Britain's isle.

They are, although so seeming rude,

Given only where we think them due;

Most courteous, e'en when they intrude,

Too vehement, but always true!

Applauses which no art can fashion,

Which speak the feelings and no more;

Which give respect the glow of passion,

When worth and valour we adore;

Blest is the hero in receiving!

And pride may scoff at, or despise,

What if but once sincere believing,

Is grateful to the good and wise.