Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/166

ON THE PROPOSAL TO ERECT A MONUMENT IN ENGLAND TO LORD BYRON.

The grass of fifty Aprils hath waved green
Above the spent heart, the Olympian head,
The hands crost idly, the shut eyes unseen,
Unseeing, the locked lips whose song hath fled;
Yet mystic-lived, like some rich, tropic flower,
His fame puts forth fresh blossoms hour by hour;
Wide spread the laden branches dropping dew
On the low, laureled brow misunderstood,
That bent not, neither bowed, until subdued
By the last foe who crowned while he o’erthrew.

Fair was the Easter Sabbath morn when first
Men heard he had not wakened to its light:
The end had come, and time had done its worst,
For the black cloud had fallen of endless night.
Then in the town, as Greek accosted Greek,
’T was not the wonted festal words to speak,
" Christ is arisen," but " Our chief is gone,"
With such wan aspect and grief-smitten head
As when the awful cry of " Pan is dead! "
Filled echoing hill and valley with its moan.