University of Virginia Library

A Public Monument.

No human being since my life began
Have I disparaged wilfully; but Man
Collective hath his rights; and those who claim
To build for ever, in the nation's name,
A shrine for hero-worship, seek to do
No light thing, lightly as it may be done.
So let a voice declare, if only one,
What, doubtless, many silent hearts hold true.
Who lift Lord Byron to a worshipt place,
Thereby, as far as in their power, disgrace
Our Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and the rest
Whose writings are what England hath of best
For wisdom, healthy joy, and love, and faith.
“Go to! thou priggish fool,” the critic saith,
“This man could blow his trumpet with such force
That all fame's echoes answer'd. Grant it coarse,
That music. Grant him vicious, insolent,
Untruthful, shallow, vain; self-discontent

112

His highest moral reach; yet”—
Hold you there!
Grant also his reverberated blare
Louder than fifty Alpine thunder-storms;
His fame the Muses' holy hill deforms,
Whereto, while passing impulse had the sway,
He forced his careless arbitrary way.
Muses, Heav'n keep your State republican!
Your one lord is your one vulgarian.