 | [The seventieth birthday of William Cullen Bryant, in] The Bryant Festival at "The Century," |  |
35
THE SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY OF WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Honor to him, the loved of all,
The master of our Western lyre!
Who o'er his country's heart hath thrown
The melody with which his own
Hath ever dwelt, shaping its tone,
To heavenly choir.
The master of our Western lyre!
Who o'er his country's heart hath thrown
The melody with which his own
Hath ever dwelt, shaping its tone,
To heavenly choir.
Honor to him whose early years
The old Homeric fire displayed,
And now to Wisdom's ripened truth
Hath brought the sunbeams of his youth,
Without a shade.
The old Homeric fire displayed,
And now to Wisdom's ripened truth
Hath brought the sunbeams of his youth,
Without a shade.
All hail to him, whose genial strain
Nor bitterness nor satire knew,
But from the charms of Nature's face
And virtue's dignity and grace
Its impulse drew.
Nor bitterness nor satire knew,
But from the charms of Nature's face
And virtue's dignity and grace
Its impulse drew.
All hail! and still through lengthened days
May his pure thoughts unsullied flow,
And in the alembic of the mind,
Mingling like molten gold refined,
Through future ages on mankind
Their wealth bestow.
May his pure thoughts unsullied flow,
And in the alembic of the mind,
Mingling like molten gold refined,
Through future ages on mankind
Their wealth bestow.
Hartford, Conn., 1864.
| [The seventieth birthday of William Cullen Bryant, in] The Bryant Festival at "The Century," | |