But the sea gulls round it fly, Blood had stained. GO Whose notes of old on lofty Pindus rang, While Jove's exulting choir Caught the glad echoes and responsive sang Come! bless the service and the shrine We consecrate to thee and thine. Fierce from the frozen North, When Havoc led his legions forth, [spread : O'er Learning's sunny groves the dark destroyer In dust the sacred statue slept, Fair Science round her altars wept, And Wisdom cowled his head. At length, Olympian lord of morn, When, through golden clouds descending, O'er Nature's lovely pageant bending, Till Avon rolled, all sparkling to thy sight! There, on its bank, beneath the mulberry's shade, Wrapped in young dreams, a wild-eyed minstrel strayed. Lighting there and lingering long, Thy fingers strung his sleeping shell, And bade him wake and warm the world! Then SHAKSPEARE rose! And, lo! a new creation glows! There, clustering round, submissive to his will, Madness, with his frightful scream, Hatred, blasting with a glance; Remorse, that weeps, and Rage, that roars, And Jealousy, that dotes, but dooms, and murders, yet adores. Mirth, his face with sun-beams lit, Arm in arm with fresh-eyed Wit, That waves his tingling lash, while Folly shakes his bell. Despair, that haunts the gurgling stream, Beneath the bubbling wave, that shrouds her maniac breast. Young Love, with eye of tender gloom, Where they met, but met to die: And now, when crimson buds are sleeping, Where Beauty's child, the frowning world forgot, To youth's devoted tale is listening, Rapture on her dark lash glistening, [spot. While fairies leave their cowslip cells and guard the happy Thus rise the phantom throng, Obedient to their master's song, ; And lead in willing chain the wandering soul along. And guide young Glory's foot along the path of Fame. Hell's juggling sisters stand, To greet their victim from the fight; And He seeks the fatal tower, Where the lone raven, perched on high, Pours to the sullen gale Her hoarse, prophetic wail, And croaks the dreadful moment nigh. See, by the phantom dagger led, Pale, guilty thing, Slowly he steals with silent tread, grasps his coward steel to smite his sleeping king. Hark! 'tis the signal bell, Struck by that bold and unsexed one, Whose milk is gall, whose heart is stone; "Tis done! 'tis done! Behold him from the chamber rushing, Life's smoking crimson on his hands, Mark the sceptred traitor slumbering! There flit the slaves of Conscience round, With boding tongues foul murderers numbering; Sleep's leaden portals catch the sound. In his dream of blood for mercy quaking, At his own dull scream behold him waking! Soon that dream to fate shall turn, For him the living furies burn; For him the vulture sits on yonder misty peak, And chides the lagging Night, and whets her hungry beak. Unhorsed, unhelmed, disdaining shield, And all his guilty glories fade. Like a crushed reptile in the dust he lies, Yon white-locked, weeping sire- He The cubless regent of the wood Forgets to bathe her fangs in blood, And caverns with her foe! Yet one was ever kind: Why lingers she behind? O pity!-view him by her dead form kneeling, His aching eyeballs strain, To see those curtained orbs unfold, But all is dark and cold. |