AMBITION
Virtue or vice, which shall we call thy name?
Parent of wealth, of liberty, of fame;
Author of crime; shall reason bless or blame?
Parent of wealth, of liberty, of fame;
Author of crime; shall reason bless or blame?
Thine offspring are in number as the sands,
In monument to thee, all triumph stands;
Yet, blood of innocence is on thy hands.
In monument to thee, all triumph stands;
Yet, blood of innocence is on thy hands.
Stagnation into frenzy, thou hast turned;
Kindled, in sluggish veins, thy fire hath burned;
To censure and to praise thee, man hath learned.
Kindled, in sluggish veins, thy fire hath burned;
To censure and to praise thee, man hath learned.
Read where thy record fills the page of time,
Inspirer of the cursed Cain, of crime;
Creator of the noble and sublime.
Inspirer of the cursed Cain, of crime;
Creator of the noble and sublime.
LINES
May the first song and yet the last I sing,
Be of the sweet bird with the broken wing
That struggles in the red-stained grass to rise,
And pours its music into thankless skies;
Be of the rosebud bright and fair,
Breathing sweet fragrance from the air;
Be of the heart that torn and wounded lives
Above the anguish that another gives,
That lets no bitterness from all its wrong
Taint its pure sweetness or make harsh its song.
Be of the sweet bird with the broken wing
That struggles in the red-stained grass to rise,
And pours its music into thankless skies;
Be of the rosebud bright and fair,
Breathing sweet fragrance from the air;
Be of the heart that torn and wounded lives
Above the anguish that another gives,
That lets no bitterness from all its wrong
Taint its pure sweetness or make harsh its song.
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