The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 |
|
|
|
TO THE ENGLISH POETS OF THE PAST
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
107
TO THE ENGLISH POETS OF THE PAST
Ye whose lips were wet
With the self-same sea,
Hearken unto me:
Let now my voice by your victorious harps be met.
With the self-same sea,
Hearken unto me:
Let now my voice by your victorious harps be met.
Ye too struggled on;
Following after fame
Till at length it came—
But came not till your mortal shapes were dead and gone.
Following after fame
Till at length it came—
But came not till your mortal shapes were dead and gone.
Ye too loved and spake
In the English air:
Found the same flowers fair;
Marked the same tides upon the same white cliff-sides break.
In the English air:
Found the same flowers fair;
Marked the same tides upon the same white cliff-sides break.
108
Ye too in your time
Knew love's wonder here:
Found love's message dear;
Recorded love's worth in imperishable rhyme.
Knew love's wonder here:
Found love's message dear;
Recorded love's worth in imperishable rhyme.
Oh that in the end
I may join, I too,
You great voice,—and you,—
May touch the hands of many a true bay-wreathéd friend!
I may join, I too,
You great voice,—and you,—
May touch the hands of many a true bay-wreathéd friend!
Surely with the same
Passion of pure love
Which your hearts did move,
I too love the shores wherein ye won your fame.
Passion of pure love
Which your hearts did move,
I too love the shores wherein ye won your fame.
Singing in an age
When the noises sharp
Drown out many a harp,
Imperious battle harder than your war we wage.
When the noises sharp
Drown out many a harp,
Imperious battle harder than your war we wage.
Yea, if but one heart
Doth respond to ours,
Resting in our bowers
Of song, it is reward thought great for living Art.
Doth respond to ours,
Resting in our bowers
Of song, it is reward thought great for living Art.
109
Yea, if but one hears;
And if dead we find
All the bards who twined
Round their brows of old the laurels of past years:
And if dead we find
All the bards who twined
Round their brows of old the laurels of past years:
If but these we find
Gladdened by our song,
All our souls are strong
To face the bitter days of obloquy unkind.
Gladdened by our song,
All our souls are strong
To face the bitter days of obloquy unkind.
For the self-same land
Shall receive our word,
Over which was poured
The sacred stream of song from many a former hand.
Shall receive our word,
Over which was poured
The sacred stream of song from many a former hand.
And though in our day
Listeners are but few,
Splendider is too
The victory of the voice which nothing can gainsay.
Listeners are but few,
Splendider is too
The victory of the voice which nothing can gainsay.
The victory of the harp
Sure-voiced as the sea:
O'er which there can be
No mist nor vapour flung by foolish tongues that carp.
Sure-voiced as the sea:
O'er which there can be
No mist nor vapour flung by foolish tongues that carp.
110
O great English bards,
Grant us in the end
Triumph, and extend
To each who struggleth now 'mid waves whose force retards,
Grant us in the end
Triumph, and extend
To each who struggleth now 'mid waves whose force retards,
As each soul deserves,
Greeting from on high,
Help, and victory;
If but to the utter end each battles on, nor swerves.
Greeting from on high,
Help, and victory;
If but to the utter end each battles on, nor swerves.
1878.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |