Thy sovereign priest by earth's vile sons was driven
To make the cold unconscious earth his bed: [FN#3]
The damp cave mocked his sighs--
But from his sightless eyes,
Wrung forth by wrongs, the anguished drops he shed,
Fell each as an appeal to summon thee from heaven.
Thou sought'st him in his desolation; placed
On thy warm bosom his unpillowed head;
Bade him for visions live
More bright than worlds can give;
O'er his pale lips thy soul infusive shed
That left his dust adored where kings decay untraced.
[FN#3] "On the banks of the Meles was shown the spot where
Critheis, the mother of Homer, brought him into the world, and the
cavern to which he retired to compose his immortal verses. A monument
erected to his memory and inscribed with his name stood in the middle
of the city--it was adorned with spacious porticos under which the
citizens assembled."
Source of deep feeling--of surpassing love--
Creative power,--'tis thou hast peopled heaven
Since man from dust arose
His birth the cherub owes [FN#4]
To thee--by thee his rapturous harp was given
And white wings tipp'd with gold that cool the domes above.
[FN#4] The Indians (says M.
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