Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Shakspeare

Shakspeare.

Centuries have rolled on centuries, years on years, The never-ceasing progress of decay Has swept the mighty and the mean away,Monarchs and multitudes! but there appears, Towering above all tempests and all time, A pyramid more glorious and sublimeThan those the imperishable Memphis rearsOver her sandy wilderness; for theirs Are but unspeaking stones, where lies enshrinedEternal silence. But peerless Shakspeare Pours forth still from his exhaustless stores of mindAll truth—all passion—and all poetry; Mounting, with tireless wings, on every wind,And filling earth with sweetest minstrelsy.