As on their proudest day.
“Or wouldst thou look upon the lords of song?
O’er the dark mirror that immortal throng
Shall waft a solemn gleam!
Passing, with lighted eyes and radiant brows,
Under the foliage of green laurel-boughs,
But silent as a dream.”
“Not these, O mighty master!—though their lays
Be unto man’s free heart, and tears, and praise,
Hallow’d for evermore!