Page:In memoriam (IA inmemoriam00tennrich).pdf/77



speaks with darken'd brow: 'Thou pratest here where thou art least; This faith has many a purer priest, And many an abler voice than thou:

Go down beside thy native rill, On thy Parnassus set thy feet, And hear thy laurel whisper sweet About the ledges of the hill.'

And my Melpomene replies, A touch of shame upon her cheek: 'I am not worthy but to speak Of thy prevailing mysteries;

For I am but an earthly Muse, And owning but a little art To lull with song an aching heart, And render human love his dues;