He and his dusky braves One instant stood, and then Drave through that cloud of purple steel and flame, Which wrapped him, held him, gave him not again, But in its trampled ashes left to Fame An everlasting name! III That was indeed to live- With foot upon the ramparts of the foe! For heroes dying so! No room for sigh or tear, Save such rich tears as happy eyelids know. Of battle, and youth's gold about his brow; Not his, at peril's frown, And parley hold with Fate, O soul of loyal valor and white truth, Here, by this iron gate, Thy serried ranks about thee as of yore, In thy undying youth! Now there were two rang silverly and long; Gold-belted sailors, bristling buccaneers, The flashing soldier, and the high, slim dame, His was the unstinted English of the Scot, No frugal Realist, but quick to laugh, He plucked the sun-sweet corn his fathers grew, David and Keats, and all good singing men, Lizelle Woodworth Reese [1856 BAYARD TAYLOR [1825-1878] "AND where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?" He went and came. But no man knows the track d by him so oft, turf keep his memory. Let nor storied stream forget, round lonely Cedarcroft; greet him in the far, hold him; let the messages o'er the chartless seas ess of his unknown star! rd beyond the loud discourse in every sphere nd its utterance here unfolding universe veler, softening the surprise n unfamiliar skies! John Greenleaf Whittier [1807-1892] MÆ MUSARUM ENNYSON, 1809-1892] 's, lies the laureled head: ned a perfect song is o'er: eat bard to his last bed. ed, thy noblest voice is mute. ed, that loved him! nevermore smooth lawn or wild sea-shore, us bloom and tremulous fruit, |