We seem to be partakers of their fame.
I.
Oh Bards of old! What sorrows have ye sung,
And tragic stories, chronicled in stone,—
Sad Philomel restored her ravish'd tongue,
And transform'd Niobe in dumbness shown;
Sweet Sappho on her love forever calls,
And Hero on the drown'd Leander falls!
II.
Was it that spectacles of sadder plights