THE Bard -- whose soul is meek as dawning day, Yet trained to judgments righteously severe, Fervid, yet conversant with holy fear, As recognising one Almighty sway: He -- whose experienced eye can pierce the array Of past events; to whom, in vision clear, The aspiring heads of future things appear, Like mountain-tops whose mists have rolled away -- Assoiled from all encumbrance of our time, He only, if such breathe, in strains devout Shall comprehend this victory sublime; Shall worthily rehearse the hideous rout, The triumph hail, which from their peaceful clime Angels might welcome with a choral shout! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IN THE GARDEN AT SWAINSTON (IN MEMORIAM - SIR JOHN SIMEON) by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER IN THE TRENCHES by BRENT DOW ALLINSON A NYMPH TO A YOUNG SHEPHERD, INSENSIBLE OF LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |