I.
1.
“Lives there a man, who does not feel
“Love's deeply-thrilling joy?
“Him let the swarm of hovering cares annoy:
“His forehead wears the monster-seal.
“Has he no music in his heart?
“Far from the social board let him depart;
“Bid him seek some Cyclopean cave,
“Where the giant-furies rave;
“Or some charm-resisting ground,
“Where scowling ghosts stalk round and round;
“Or darkling 'mid the blasted desert stray,
“Scar'd by the demon of the troublous way.”
2.
Such was the song of ancient time,
Which rous'd, as by a spell, the slumbering soul;
And still shall bid th'enthusiast rhyme
From breast to breast in mingling streams to roll.
For kindred spirits, fraught with passions strong,
Heav'n gave to feel the magic power of song.
Yet shall the bard still toil around,
For souls of Grecian, Roman name?
Still call the muse of fairy-ground,
To lift some storied Arthur's fame?
Man fills a little space,
Nor long shall hold his way;
Princes and glittering knights, ah! who shall trace
Beyond a day?—
These flowers of human kind but bloom for death,
And fable is but mortal breath;
While Love, still fair and fragrant, never dies,
Fills the wide range of earth, fills all th'expanse of skies.
3.
“To thee of boundless fame,
“And blest with matchless powers,
“Benevolence or Love, whate'er thy name;
“If when th'expectant hours
“Were taught again harmonious to advance
“In light mysterious dance,
“Then life was thine, thy grand delight to plan
“The genial solace of the future man;
“When at thy touch confusion fled,
“Again mov'd on the course of years,
“And order shew'd its orient head,
“'Mid the music of the spheres:
“Or rather, if 'twas thine, thro' years to rest
“In some fair Island of the Blest,
“Where one unclouded glory gilds the sky,
“Where from the sea the gales ambrosial fly;
“Oh! thou of peerless grace,
“Whate'er thy name, where'er thy place,
“Thine be the song of time.” Thus roll'd along
The goddess of the Lyre, th'impetuous tide of song.
