Thus shall he live whose more than

mortal name

He spoke; the sea-nymph answered from her cave:

Mocks with its ray the pallid torch of He called; the naiad left her mountain

Girds her whole zodiac in his flaming And night's chaste empress, in her bri

dal play,

round, And leads the passions, like the orb Laughed through the foliage where

that guides,

Endymion lay;

From pole to pole, the palpitating tides! And ocean dimpled, as the languid swell Kissed the red lip of Cytherea's shell:

V.

Of power,

Bellona swept the crimson

field,

THOUGH round the Muse the robe of And blue-eyed Pallas shook her Gor

song is thrown,

Think not the poet lives in verse alone. Long ere the chisel of the sculptor taught

The lifeless stone to mock the living thought;

Longere the painter bade the canvas glow
With every line the forms of beauty
know;

Long ere the iris of the Muses threw
On every leaf its own celestial hue;

In fable's dress the breath of genius

poured,

gon shield;

O'er the hushed waves their mightier

monarch drove,

And Ida trembled to the tread of Jove !

So every grace that plastic language

knows

To nameless poets its perfection owes.
The rough-hewn words to simplest

thoughts confined

Were cut and polished in their nicer mind;

Caught on their edge, imagination's ray shooting far

And warmed the shapes that later times Splits into rainbows,

Unschooled by Faith, who, with her A better poet than his lexicon !

angel tread,

Leads through the labyrinth with a

single thread,

There is a race, which cold, ungenial skies

His fancy, hovering round her guarded Breed from decay, as fungous growths

Rained through its bars like Danae's Though dying fast, yet springing fast again,

golden shower.

Which still usurps an unsubstantial | But fruitless flowers, and dark, enven

within,

share

--

Sick of their life before its cares be- In Cowper's gloom, or Chatterton's de

gin;

The dull disease, which drains their

feeble hearts,

To life's decay some hectic thrills imparts,

And lends a force, which, like the maniac's power,

Pays with blank years the frenzy of an hour.

spair!

Not such were they, whom, wander

ing o'er the waves,

I looked to meet, but only found their graves;

If friendship's smile, the better part of fame,

Should lend my song the only wreath I claim,

And this is Genius! Say, does Whose voice would greet me with a sweeter tone,

Heaven degrade

The manly frame, for health, for action Whose living hand more kindly press made? my own, Break down the sinews, rack the brow Than theirs, - could Memory, as her silent tread

with pains,

Blanch the bright cheek, and drain the Prints the pale flowers that blossom o'er purple veins, the dead,

To clothe the mind with more extended Those breathless lips, now closed in peace, restore,

sway,

Thus faintly struggling in degenerate Or wake those pulses hushed to beat no clay?

more?

No! gentle maid, too ready to admire,

Thou calm, chaste scholar! I can see thee now,

Though false its notes, the pale enthusi- The first young laurels on thy pallid

If this be genius, though its bitter springs O'er thy slight figure floating lightly Glowed like the morn beneath Aurora's

wings,

down

In graceful folds the academic gown,

Seek not the source whose sullen bosom On thy curled lip the classic lines, that

How nice the mind that sculptured | Have such e'er been? Remember Can

them with thought,

ning's name!

And triumph glistening in the clear Do such still live? Let "Alaric's Dirge"

with snow,

proclaim !

Immortal Art! where'er the rounded sky

Bends o'er the cradle where thy children

lie,

Their home is earth, their herald every tongue

Whose accents echo to the voice that

sung.

Since thou wast laid its budding leaves One leap of Ocean scatters on the sand The quarried bulwarks of the loosening

below,

Thine image mingles with my closing

strain,

As when we wandered by the turbid Seine, Both blest with hopes, which revelled, bright and free,

On all we longed, or all we dreamed to

be;

To thee the amaranth and the cypress fell,

And I was spared to breathe this last farewell!

land;

One thrill of earth dissolves a century's toil

Strewed like the leaves that vanish in the soil;

One hill o'erflows, and cities sink below, Their marbles splintering in the lava's glow;

But one sweet tone, scarce whispered to the air,

From shore to shore the blasts of ages bear;

But lived there one in unremembered One humble name, which oft, perchance,

has borne

days, Or lives there still, who spurns the poet's The tyrant's mockery and the courtier's bays, Whose fingers, dewy from Castalia's Towers o'er the dust of earth's forgotten

Rest on the lyre, yet scorn to touch the As once, emerging through the waste of

Who shakes the senate with the silver The rocky Titan, round whose shattered

The groves of Pindus might have sighed Coiled the last whirlpool of the drowning sphere !

to own?