STANZAS ON FELIX MENDELSSOHN. WRITTEN IN BURNIIAM BEECHES. JANUARY 1848.
These ancient groves and solitudes among Lately a bright celestial Being strayed; A brief retreat from out the admiring throng, He sought and found beneath their leafy shade.
With-careless: steps he ranged the forest's maze; Then, reefing-here a space, his raptured eye lie bent upon the scene; with thoughtful gaze, And bathed his spirit in its poetry.
To mark the cherished spot which once he prest, An humble mourner's hand bath raised a stone; For He hath sunk to an eternal rest, Untimely parted from his young renown; Ere his rich gifts and inspirations bore Their peifect fruit in his creative mind; Ere swelled to flood, in life's meridian hour, The Master's art to bless and charm mankind.
He stood confessed a Genius—yet he scorned An Idol's tempting privilege to claim; The virtues of the Man his course adorned, And added lustre to his lyric fame.
Ah I Mendelssohn, hadst thou but oftener sought Calm Nature's presence—hadst thou oftener fled The incense-offering crowd, and idly caught The summer breeze to fan thy fevered head— Haply, e'en now, within its earthly sphere Had beamed the radiance of thy soul divine; And spared had been the unavailing tear, Which from a thousand eyelids joins with mine.
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