The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring; These wondrous beings of his Fancy, wrought To fulness by the fiat of his thought, Here in their first abode you still may meet, Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat; Which still the splendour of its orb betrays. 60 But should there be to whom the fatal blight Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze Repose denies her requiem to his name, Stands sentinel-accuser-judge-and spy, The foe-the fool-the jealous-and the vain, Half to the ardour which its birth bestows, Distort the truth, accumulate the lie, And pile the Pyramid of Calumny! These are his portion-but if joined to these Gaunt Poverty should league with deep Disease, 70 If the high Spirit must forget to soar, And stoop to strive with Misery at the door, To soothe Indignity-and face to face Meet sordid Rage-and wrestle with Disgrace, To find in Hope but the renewed caress, What marvel if at last the mightiest fail? Breasts to whom all the strength of feeling given 81 Bear hearts electric-charged with fire from Heaven, Black with the rude collision, inly torn, By clouds surrounded, and on whirlwinds borne, Driven o'er the lowering Atmosphere that nurst *90 Thoughts which have turned to thunder-scorchand burst. VOL. V. N. But far from us and from our mimic scene Such things should be—if such have ever been; Our's be the gentler wish, the kinder task, To give the tribute Glory need not ask, To mourn the vanished beam-and add our mite Of praise in payment of a long delight. 100 Ye Orators! whom yet our councils yield, Ye Bards! to whom the Drama's Muse is dear, He was your Master-emulate him here! Ye men of wit and social eloquence! He was your Brother-bear his、ashes hence! While Powers of Mind almost of boundless range, Complete in kind-as various in their change, 110 While Eloquence-Wit-Poesy-and Mirth, That humbler Harmonist of care on Earth, Long shall we seek his likeness—long in vain, 118 |