Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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The Poet's Mission.
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
15
The Poet's Mission.
A Protest.
Not to flatter kings,
Not to serve a Court,
Bent on nobler things
Than to make them sport;
Loyal, gentle, kind,
Yet honest, frank, and free,
Pure in life and mind,
Must the poet be!
Not to serve a Court,
Bent on nobler things
Than to make them sport;
Loyal, gentle, kind,
Yet honest, frank, and free,
Pure in life and mind,
Must the poet be!
Meekness at his heart,
Though triumph on his brow,
Well to do his part
In his daily vow;
Zealous for the best
His earnest spirit can,
And, at God's behest,
Swift to gladden Man!
Though triumph on his brow,
Well to do his part
In his daily vow;
Zealous for the best
His earnest spirit can,
And, at God's behest,
Swift to gladden Man!
Honour thou the Gift,
Count it no man's slave;
To the Lord uplift
What His bounty gave!
Let thy spirit spring
Up to Heaven's gate,
There, on quivering wing,
Song to consecrate!
Count it no man's slave;
To the Lord uplift
What His bounty gave!
Let thy spirit spring
Up to Heaven's gate,
There, on quivering wing,
Song to consecrate!
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Song,—it soothes the heart,
Song, it charms the world;
Song, it is a dart
By a giant hurl'd;
Song,—a torrent's strength
In its force is found
When, aroused at length,
Nations hear the sound!
Song, it charms the world;
Song, it is a dart
By a giant hurl'd;
Song,—a torrent's strength
In its force is found
When, aroused at length,
Nations hear the sound!
Hark! they hear, and feel,
And may sleep no more!
Hark! the patriot peal
Rings from shore to shore;
And, in danger's hour,
Stands the poet then,
Girt about with power
As a King of men!
And may sleep no more!
Hark! the patriot peal
Rings from shore to shore;
And, in danger's hour,
Stands the poet then,
Girt about with power
As a King of men!
At his burning spell
Quakes the solid shore,
And with yearning swell
Rises ocean's roar,
Till the People's will
Like a storm is heard,
Conjured by the skill
Of their poet's word!
Quakes the solid shore,
And with yearning swell
Rises ocean's roar,
Till the People's will
Like a storm is heard,
Conjured by the skill
Of their poet's word!
At his gentle voice
All that storm is calm,
And the woods rejoice,
And the breeze is balm,
And Hosannas rise
From a Nation's heart,
Flaming to the skies
Through the Poet's art!
All that storm is calm,
And the woods rejoice,
And the breeze is balm,
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From a Nation's heart,
Flaming to the skies
Through the Poet's art!
Art? it is his breath,
The sighing of his soul!
Art? it might be Death
The fervour to control!
Not by such a name
Call the glorious birth
Of this heavenly flame
Lit to kindle earth!
The sighing of his soul!
Art? it might be Death
The fervour to control!
Not by such a name
Call the glorious birth
Of this heavenly flame
Lit to kindle earth!
As his heart may glow,
Freely must his song,
Like an overflow,
Gush out fresh and strong!
No constraint be there
His energies to tire;
Zeal, and love, and prayer
String the Poet's lyre!
Freely must his song,
Like an overflow,
Gush out fresh and strong!
No constraint be there
His energies to tire;
Zeal, and love, and prayer
String the Poet's lyre!
| Ballads for the Times | |