XIX. White is the glassy deck, without a stain, Where on the watch the staid lieutenant walks: Look on that part which sacred doth remain For the lone chieftain, who majestic stalks, Silent and feared by all: not oft he talks With aught beneath him, if he would preserve That strict restraint, which broken, ever baulks Conquest and Fame: but Britons rarely swerve From law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve.
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