That reason poised in sympathy supreme,
Revealed translucent pathos in his theme,
Bade clamor cease—taught candor’s part to cure—
Bade truth appear more true, pure thought more pure.
But is the zenith reached—his record done,
His duty closed beneath meridian sun?
Was it for him like meteor flash to sweep
Athwart the heavens, as vaulting lightnings leap—
On living errand our dimmed orbit cleave—
On mission radiate, yet no message leave?