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Man's honor is confided to your hand, There let it well protected be! It sinks with you! with you it will expand! Poesy's sacred sorcery Obeys a world-plan wise and good; In silence let it swell the flood Of mighty-rolling harmony. By her own time viewed with disdain, Let solemn truth in song remain, And let the Muses' band defend her!
As o'er the streamlet's crystal flood The banks with checkered dances hover, The flowery mead, the sunset's light, Thus gleams, life's barren pathway over, Poesy's shadowy world so bright. In bridal dress ye led us on Before the terrible Unknown, Before the inexorable fate, As in your urns the bones are laid, With beauteous magic veil ye shade The chorus dread that cares create.
Seest thou the light from yonder casement streaming? Seest thou the shadow on the window cast? There, lost in thought and poesy's wild dreaming, Waits one to hear Fame's loud but fickle blast. This is his life's great aim; but what beyond it? Of Truth's bright treasure though he love to tell, In barren mines of lore he hath not found it, Bowing beneath his idol's deadly spell.
I do it because, as they are excelling parts of poesy, so is there none so much used in England, and none can be more pitifully abused. Which like an unmannerly daughter, showing a bad education, causeth her mother poesy's honesty to be called in question.
From the mean squalor of the sordid life that limits him, the dreamer or the idyllist may soar on poesy's viewless wings, may traverse with fawn-skin and spear the moonlit heights of Cithaeron though Faun and Bassarid dance there no more.
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