University of Virginia Library



VALE—BENEDICITE!

My task is done. Oh that I could have caught
The plume that dropped from that angelic wing
Into thy hand—to serve for minstrel string,
And shed diviner music, nobler thought,
More infinite honour. 'Las! my strain is nought,
Through human fleck and flaw, though well I know
No need is thine of bays around thy brow,
Or incense of vain homage. Time has brought
Thy consecration, and the world's acclaim—
Feeble and faint, of yore, but now full-blown,
A trumpet-note to make thy triumph known—
Awards thee Fame, ay, constant growth of Fame—
What more of earth? No more, since this is given—
Our blessing on thee Izaak, in thy heaven!