Page:Felicia Hemans in The Literary Gazette 1821.pdf/10

But thou to more exalted themes
    Hast nobly urg'd the Muses' claim;
And other light before thee beams
    Than Fancy's meteor flame.
And from thy harp's entrancing strings
    Strains have proceeded more sublime
Than e'er were waken'd by the things:
    Which appertain to Time!

Yes! Female Minstrel! thou hast set,
    Even to the Masters of the Lyre,
An eloquent example!—yet
    How few have caught thy fire!—
How few of their most lofty lays
    Have to Religion's cause been given,
And taught the kindling soul to raise
    Its hopes, its thoughts to Heaven!

Yet this, at least, has been thy aim;
    For thou "hast chos'n that better part,"
Above the lure of worldly fame,
    To touch—and teach the heart!
To touch it by no slight appeal
    To feelings—in each heart confest;
To teach—by truths that bear the seal
    God hath himself imprest!

And can those flowers, which bloom to fade,
    For thee a fitting wreath appear?
No! wear thou, then, the Ivy-braid,
    Whose leaves are never sere!
It is not gloomy—brightly play
    The sunbeams on its glossy green;
And softly on it sleeps the ray
    Of moon-light—all serene.

It changes not, as seasons flow
    In changeful, silent course along;
Spring finds it verdant, leaves it so—
    It outlives Summer's song.
Autumn no wan, or russet stain
    Upon its fadeless glory flings,
And Winter o'er it sweeps in vain,
    With tempest on his wings.

"Then wear thou this."—The Ivy Crown!
    And though the bard who twines it be
Unworthy of thy just renown,
    Such wreath is worthy thee.
For her's it is, who, truly wise,
    To Virtue's cause her powers hath given;
Whose page the "Gates of Hell" defies,
    And points to those of Heaven!