 | Poems |  |
IN THE TOWER OF LONDON.
These stones were trod by Raleigh's prison'd feet;Think, then, what vast thoughts breathed within this cell,
What radiant fancies by your eyes loved well,
Fancies still in our souls, with music sweet;
How his great spirit's wings here vainly beat
These bars for issue, weak are words to tell,
For flight to that far unknown world, where dwell
Nations he planted—English hearts that meet
With reverence the grand utterance of his name
Who was the sun of our great Queen's bright reign
And our abhorrèd Stuart's worst of shame,
To hide whose baseness time must strive in vain;
Link'd is that crown'd sin to his living fame
Whose mortal like earth yearns to know again.
| Poems | |