THE SESSIONS OF PARNASSUS.
229
Where the strong laws that riveted the state?
Or they that made them, or that by them ruled?
How has stern Time their windy pride befooled!
Whirled them, and sunk them as he swiftly bore,
Or strewed in wrecks on his remorseless shore!
Man's works must crumble; even Art, most strong;
And naught endures but Truth and mighty Song!
"Who were High Chancellors in Homer's day?
What lordling's chariot brushed him by the way?
What man of power that voice of ages hired
To while a dull hour when his grace was tired?
None answer, while the minstrel's song of fire
Comes to our ears, as from a seraph-choir,
As fresh, as living as when poured the tone
From the blind harper sitting on his stone!
Think you Mecænas had survived the dead
Had he not linked him with the bards he fed?
Then they were great because the great man smiled,
And drew false fame from him for whom they toiled.
Now, turned the tables, 't is their buoyant lays
Have borne his honors to succeeding days.
You spoke of Bacon, not because of place,
But, spite of it, he won th' immortal race.
Blending all powers, he mastered law and fact,
But 'of imagination all compact,'
To bold invention's loftiest peaks arose,
And was a poet in the garb of prose.
Great statesmen lived, not breathing air sublime,
Howe'er renowned, they perished with their time.
Laws are man's pride; and every praise we yield
The wise who frame them, or the strong who wield;
Needful, like bread, in man's imperfect state
To body politic or corporate:
The means of life; but, health and order found,
What is the end by which the whole is crowned?
The flower of this well-fed and rooted tree?
Oh! need I say it? 't is sweet Poesy!
Who takes our arm in childhood's roving hours,
To lead us wondering through fresh fairy bowers;
Admits, through sunset's golden bars, the gaze
Or they that made them, or that by them ruled?
How has stern Time their windy pride befooled!
Whirled them, and sunk them as he swiftly bore,
Or strewed in wrecks on his remorseless shore!
Man's works must crumble; even Art, most strong;
And naught endures but Truth and mighty Song!
"Who were High Chancellors in Homer's day?
What lordling's chariot brushed him by the way?
What man of power that voice of ages hired
To while a dull hour when his grace was tired?
None answer, while the minstrel's song of fire
Comes to our ears, as from a seraph-choir,
As fresh, as living as when poured the tone
From the blind harper sitting on his stone!
Think you Mecænas had survived the dead
Had he not linked him with the bards he fed?
Then they were great because the great man smiled,
And drew false fame from him for whom they toiled.
Now, turned the tables, 't is their buoyant lays
Have borne his honors to succeeding days.
You spoke of Bacon, not because of place,
But, spite of it, he won th' immortal race.
Blending all powers, he mastered law and fact,
But 'of imagination all compact,'
To bold invention's loftiest peaks arose,
And was a poet in the garb of prose.
Great statesmen lived, not breathing air sublime,
Howe'er renowned, they perished with their time.
Laws are man's pride; and every praise we yield
The wise who frame them, or the strong who wield;
Needful, like bread, in man's imperfect state
To body politic or corporate:
The means of life; but, health and order found,
What is the end by which the whole is crowned?
The flower of this well-fed and rooted tree?
Oh! need I say it? 't is sweet Poesy!
Who takes our arm in childhood's roving hours,
To lead us wondering through fresh fairy bowers;
Admits, through sunset's golden bars, the gaze
