ADDISON.
Thou, too, art worthy of all praise, whose pen,
"In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," did shed,
A noontide glory over Milton's head—
He, "Prince of Poets"—thou, the prince of men—
Blessings on thee, and on the honored dead.
How dost thou charm for us the touching story
Of the lost children in the gloomy wood;
Haunting dim memory with the early glory,
That in youth's golden years our hearts imbued.
From the fine world of olden Poetry,
Life-like and fresh, thou bringest forth again
The gallant heroes of an earlier reign,
And blend them in our minds with thoughts of thee,
Whose name is ever shrined in old-world memory.