 | Brother Fabian's Manuscript |  |
Thou sleepest! Thou wilt never wake again!
No more for ever among mortal men
That scrutinous eye under the giant brow
Shall rede the riddles of their life. Even now
Thou sleepest well, where bitter indignation
No more can lacerate thy heart!—No more
The babble of misprision, and the sore
Galling of treacherous craft and envious passion
Vex thee, there sleeping
Where greatness breeds not hatred, and thy Fame
Can turn no more to shame
The dwarf ambitions round thy Titan-grandeur creeping!
Asleep? Nay, rather, on this Christmas Eve
Dost thou not sup with Shakspere, and receive
Immortal welcome of the Great of old?—
Ah, pitiful dream! The man we loved lies cold,
Cold, very cold and still!
The brave true heart will never beat again:
There dwells no thought within the kingly brain:
All spent the liberal fountains of the will!
No more for ever among mortal men
That scrutinous eye under the giant brow
Shall rede the riddles of their life. Even now
Thou sleepest well, where bitter indignation
No more can lacerate thy heart!—No more
The babble of misprision, and the sore
Galling of treacherous craft and envious passion
Vex thee, there sleeping
Where greatness breeds not hatred, and thy Fame
Can turn no more to shame
The dwarf ambitions round thy Titan-grandeur creeping!
250
Dost thou not sup with Shakspere, and receive
Immortal welcome of the Great of old?—
Ah, pitiful dream! The man we loved lies cold,
Cold, very cold and still!
The brave true heart will never beat again:
There dwells no thought within the kingly brain:
All spent the liberal fountains of the will!
| Brother Fabian's Manuscript | |