THE MODERN DRAMA.
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| 8. |
| For Dædalus breathed in them his spirit; |
| In them their sire his beauty sees; |
| We too, a younger brood, inherit |
| The gifts and blessing bestowed on these. |
| 9. |
| But ah! their wise and graceful seeming |
| Recalls the more that the sage is gone; |
| Weeping we wake from deceitful dreaming, |
| And find our voiceless chamber lone. |
| 10. |
| Dædalus, thou from the twilight fleest, |
| Which thou with visions hast made so bright; |
| And when no more those shapes thou seest, |
| Wanting thine eye they lose their light. |
| 11. |
| E’en in the noblest of Man’s creations, |
| Those fresh worlds round this old of ours, |
| When the seer is gone, the orphaned nations |
| See but the tombs of perished powers. |
| 12. |
| Wail for Dædalus, Earth and Ocean! |
| Stars and Sun, lament for him! |
| Ages, quake in strange commotion! |
| All ye realms of life be dim! |
| 13. |
| Wail for Dædalus, awful voices, |
| From earth’s deep centre Mankind appall! |
| Seldom ye sound, and then Death rejoices, |
| For he knows that then the mightiest fall. |
Also the following, whose measure seems borrowed from Goethe, and is worthy of its source. We insert a part it.
| THE WOODED MOUNTAINS. |
| Woodland mountains in your leafy walks, |
| Shadows of the Past and Future blend; |
| ’Mid your verdant windings flits or stalks |
| Many a loved and disembodied friend. |
