 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
164
PEEL.
Struck down at noon amid the startled throng;An eagle shot while soaring to the sun;
A wounded gladiator dying strong,
As loath to leave the glories he had won;
A life-long patriot, with his work half done,—
Of thee, great Statesman, shall my mourning song
Arise in due solemnity!—of thee,
Whom the wide world, so lately and so long
Thine acolyte, would crowd to hear and see,
Their intellectual Athlete, their high name
For eloquence and prudence, gifts and powers:
But lo! that starry mind, a heavenly flame,
Is well enfranchised from this earth of ours,
Translated in the zenith of its fame!
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