“ When I behold the false and flatter'd state
Which all ambition points at, and survey
The hurried pageants of the passing day,
Where all press on to share a fleeting fate,
Methinks the living triumphs that await
On hours like thine, might tempt the proud to stay.
For on a green and all unworldly way,
Thy hand hath twined the chaplet of the great,
And the first warmth and fragrance of its fame,
Are stealing on thy soul. The time shall be
When men may find a music in thy name,
To rouse deep fancies and opinions free;
Affections fervid as the sun's bright flame,
And sympathies unfathom'd as the sea.
LAMAN BLANCHARD (1824). /