To his startled Fatherland!

Mute to him, they crowd the halls,
Ever on their pedestals
Lifeless stand they!--He alone
Who alone, the Muses seeing,
Clasps--can warm them into being;
The Muses to the Vandal--stone!

[45] To the shore of the Seine.

* * * * *


THE POETRY OF LIFE.

"Who would himself with shadows entertain,
Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,
Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?
Though with my dream my heaven should be resign'd--
Though the free-pinion'd soul that now can dwell
In the large empire of the Possible,
This work-day life with iron chains may bind,
Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,
And solemn duty to our acts decreed,
Meets us thus tutor'd in the hour of need,
With a more sober and submissive mind!
How front Necessity--yet bid thy youth
Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, Truth."