Whose life was like a setting planet mild,
Which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled
Of its departing glory; still her fame 105
Shines on thee through the tempests dark and wild,
Which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim
The shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name.
Truth’s deathless voice pauses among mankind!
If there must be no response to my cry— 110
If men must rise and stamp with fury blind
On his pure name who loves them—thou and I,