University of Virginia Library

Soft through the lattice looked the quiet moon,
As rising from his weary vigil, faint
With unremitted toil, the student threw
His ponderous tomes aside, and gazed awhile
Out on the radiant night, that star-crowned, cast
Her mantle o'er the Earth. The holy calm
Sooth'd not his spirit's restlessness, or still'd
The burning thoughts that rose upon his mind,
And stole away the guilelessness of heart,
That mark'd his earlier hours. He was one
Upon whose soul Ambition reigned supreme,
And pointed him to names that on the roll
Of Time's gray record, lived from age to age,
Like lonely columns that defy decay,
And proudly stand 'mid temples overthrown.
And all that poets of the misty past
Have sung—Alcides' fame, and he whose arm
Lies mouldering now, beside Scamander's stream;
The hero of that glorious day when Greece
Saw Freedom's light once more, and triumph sat
Upon the steep by “sea-born Salamis,”—
The Macedonian boy, whose realm was spread
From fair Ionia to the Indus' wave,—
All these but fed the quenchless fire that burned
Within his breast, and dried up every fount
Of purer feeling. And as the fadeless stars
Looked meekly down, he proudly vowed
To make his name like them endure.
Oh, vain and mad presumption! Do not all
The brightest names of earth, as years roll on,
Shine dimmer through the past, and one by one,
Go out forever?

Years had passed by.
'Twas midnight's lonely hour, when the proud youth
That full of life, had vow'd in years gone by
To win himself a name,—a pale, sad man,—
Came back to view once more his early home,
Care-worn and weary of the hollow world.
His high hopes crushed, and haughty spirit bowed,
He came to find the fame he fondly sought,
A wild and splendid dream, that in return
For years and manhood's vigor wasted, gave
But thorns instead of laurels. Then the fount
So long sealed up, burst forth, and purer thoughts
Come back like guardian spirits, and made glad
Their early home. He went into the world.
Not now for fame, but true and humble deeds;
And found the grateful blessings of the hearts
His charity relieved, more sweet than all
The empty praise that gilds a conqueror's name.
And though too late he cast aside the chain
That wild ambition forged, and though his life
In the long toil was wasted; yet his after deeds
Made sweet the bed of death, and by him stood
Like angels, waiting with spread wings, to bear
His spirit to a brighter realm than Fame's.