DROOP not, sweet Bard! the envious cloud Pale Malice breathes, thy fame to shroud, Shall quickly pass away: No meteor lights thy sky adorn, 'Tis the true promise of a morn, And it must turn to day. Strike, strike again the quivering wire, Awake old Memnon's magic lyre, And give thy soul to song; By Fancy blest, to Feeling dear, Their guardian forms shall hover near And shield thy head from wrong. Whence beams the light that guides the soul Beyond our nature's humble goal, The hope that points on high? It beams from Pity's aspect meek, From generous Feeling's moistened cheek, From Fancy's sparkling eye. 'Tis these that feed the patriot's flame, 'Tis these that prompt each gentler aim; And he whose heart is cold, A loveless sojourner on earth, Might sell the freedom of his birth, His British birth, for gold. Hence! groveling and unfeeling band, With cruel eye and deadening hand And grin Sardonic, -- hence! Rise, sons of Virtue, sons of Praise, Avenge the violated bays, Our glory and defence! Droop not, sweet Bard! the candid mind By Genius warmed, by Taste refined, Shall open to thy lay: So generous soils expand to meet The fosterings of the solar heat, While shrinks the sterile clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO FINE LADY WOULD-BE by BEN JONSON THE VISION OF SIN by ALFRED TENNYSON BARBARA FRIETCHIE [SEPTEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MOUNTAIN STORM by FRANCES DAVIS ADAMS A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE MISTAKE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE A DEAD ROSE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |