 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
82
HORACE.
Lyrist of every age, of every clime,Whose eye prophetic saw thy strong-built fame
Stand a perennial monument sublime,—
Not all of thee shall perish: in thy name
Live memories embalm'd of richest thought,
Far-flashing wit, and satire's wholesome smart,
Fine speech with feeling delicately fraught,
And patriot songs that with their generous glow
Warm to the love of home the wanderer's heart:
How varied is the chaplet on thy brow,
How wreath'd of many praises! the bright bay,
With laughing rose, and ebrious ivy twined,
And myrtles of staid hue, and wild-flowers gay,
Shadow the changeful phases of thy mind.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |