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SONNET.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE REVOLT OF
ISLAM.
Percy, when from thy wild
and mighty lyre
Burst forth that strain which told of Fear and Faith,
And Tyranny and Force and Hate and Death,
Vanquish’d by Love and Wisdom, the lost fire
Of Hope which flashed from thy electric wire
Burnt in my breast once more, and with hush’d breath
I stood to see Fame’s amaranthine wreath
Round round his brows whose soul could thus aspire.
There shall it rest! and though earth’s grovelling throng
Of bat-eyed worldlings, whose enfeebled gaze
Turns back appal’d from Truth’s meridian blaze,
See not nor will acknowledge, be thou strong
In self-support, and let thy glorious song
Hold its high course—itself its fittest praise!
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