POEMS.
137
It hath power to bow down rank's gilded form
At the shrine of a mighty mind,
Tho' the wizard hand be a toil-cramped one,
And the wizard a nameless hind.
At the shrine of a mighty mind,
Tho' the wizard hand be a toil-cramped one,
And the wizard a nameless hind.
Then fetter me down! but I rise to burst
The links of the pond'rous chain,
Which care and want can forge to check
The working of the brain!
The links of the pond'rous chain,
Which care and want can forge to check
The working of the brain!
What! tho' more oft than in stately halls,
In the earth's dark spots I lie;
The scorning of its mighty ones,
Genius can well defy!
R. A.
In the earth's dark spots I lie;
The scorning of its mighty ones,
Genius can well defy!
R. A.
