 | My Sonnets |  |
15
ELLIOT.
On calmly, through the dungeon's prisoned gloom,On, through the agony of death, he came,
Treading the road to a world-honoured fame,
A fame that shall not die, until the doom
Of old forgotten nations shall entomb
The tongue that Milton wrote in,—the great name
Of England,—and their deeds whose godlike aim
Was deathless life; and, till the past consume
All the world treasures in its memory
As worthy most for coming time to know,
Still shall the father, while around his knee
His children gather, teach them what they owe
To Pym and Elliot, and shall, ending, pray,
If evil times be nigh, that his sons be as they.
November 11th, 1842.
| My Sonnets | |