To scatter o’er his path of fame bright hues in gem-like showers.
Peace! Within his chamber
Low the mighty lies—
With a cloud of dreams on his noble brow,
And a wandering in his eyes.
Sing, sing for him, the lord of song—for him, whose rushing strain
In mastery o’er the spirit sweeps, like a strong wind o’er the main!
Whose voice lives deep in burning hearts, for ever there to dwell,
As full-toned oracles are shrined in a temple’s holiest cell.
Yes! for him, the victor,