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THE TWO POETS |
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Then the fair child awoke and touch'd its chords, Raising his mild eye to that angel's heaven!
Imploring thence the favour of his God, Th' inspiring Spirit to his heart was given.
He saw the path of fame,—but turn'd aside Where the meek followers of the Lamb appear,
And from his sweet harp pour'd a flowing tide Of melody, their sacred toils to cheer.
He sung of Calvary—immersed that lyre
In the red stream which thenceforth takes its way;
And now his soul caught all the secret fire Which glows upon a seraph's melting lay.
His was a station low and humble here,
No meed was granted by the sons of earth;
None, save the tribute sweet of Virtue's tear, And that which men must yield to honest worth.
He pass'd away—but still the strains he sung Invest religion with a hallow'd light ;
And many a soul shall join the ransom'd throng, Allured and won by him from shades of night.
VVho would not live, thou blessed bard, like thee, To shed a fragrance on the air of time ?
And pour a gush of sacred melody
Which through eternity shall swell sublime ?
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