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(Died March 28, 1898)
NOT from his throat there came | |
| A magic sequence of melodious sound, | |
| Like tongues of living flame | |
| That fire the sense and soul and all around | |
| Shed gleams from heaven. The sway he wielded long | 5 |
| Was not the power of song. | |
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| Not with the plaintive reed, | |
| Beloved of Pan and sylven deities, | |
| Nor with the hopes that plead | |
| Through strings that quiver into harmonies, | 10 |
| Hath he his triumphs won; not his that sign | |
| Of mastery divine. | |
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| Not from creative thought | |
| Into the faded festival of Time | |
| Hath he fresh wonders brought. | 15 |
| No glorious ode nor symphony sublime | |
| Sprang from his brain: the mystery of Art | |
| He felt but in his heart. | |
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| And from that heart there fell | |
| On others’ hands and voices and the soul | 20 |
| Of the great world a spell | |
| That the decrees of fate could not control | |
| Nor the wild events of life: the misery | |
| Ceased for a while to be. | |
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| The Masters came again, | 25 |
| Back rolled the ages: care and folly fled | |
| Immortal Beauty’s reign, | |
| O, not in vain in him that now lies dead | |
| Was born that mighty spirit at whose breath | |
| Genius awakes from death! | 30 |
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