This poem was taken from a booklet published in 1973
and purchased from Winchester Cathedral in 1978, entitled A verse
sequence on Winchester Cathedral, its life and meaning, written for the
Festival of St. Swithun, by Patrick B. Mace. A charming an unusual
comparison between the nation’s hero, Admiral Nelson, and Jane Austen:
A little, one-eyed, one-armed fellow,
Cocked-hatted, cheered, the whole way down,
Alone in the coach, half smothered with ribbons
Rattling through Hampshire to Portsmouth town.
Watched by a lady-like woman shopper,
Wondered at, stared at, waved at, maybe,
As she turned to match the discreet material
To make a gown for a Winchester tea.
One has a columned statue in London,
One a plaque in Wykeham’s nave,
Both of them names the world remembers,
Still astonished by what each gave.
He, the salt-heaved quarter deck pacing,
She, the drawing-room’s carpeted floor;
He, from the cannon gaining his mastery,
She, from a lady’s escritoire.
Who’s to say, in the lists of value,
Which was the greater who passed that day,
She, who quietly limned her fellows
Or he, who blasted an age away?
