The sad memorial of a tale of woe! A scene from dumb oblivion to restore, To fame unknown, and new to epic lore! Alas! neglected by the sacred Nine, But while he measured o'er the painful race Adversity, companion of his way, Still o'er the victim hung with iron sway, 1 Shakspeare's Henry IV., act iii. 2 Darien. Marking each change of place with change of woe: Or where pale famine blasts the hopeful year, Or where, all-dreadful in the embattled line, The expanding dawn of mental day obscured, And quench'd the ardour kindling in his breast. While conscious Truth unfolds her piteous tale! And lo! the power that wakes the eventful song Hastes hither from Lethean banks along : She sweeps the gloom, and rushing on the sight, Since first the circling hours their course began; Her left a silver wand on high display'd, Whose magic touch dispels oblivion's shade. She sails; and swifter than the course of light The fugitive ideas she restores, And calls the wandering thought from Lethe's shores; To things long past a second date she gives, And hoary time from her fresh youth receives; She shares her power, and Memory is her name. Assail'd by tempests, girt with hostile shores?— |