Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/146

BYRON Its heart of passion,—and for life unbound

By chain or creed the measureless desire;

Gave to one poet these, and manifold

High thoughts, beyond our lesser mortal share,—

Gave dreams of beauty, yes, and with a mould

The antique world had worshipped made him fair;

Then touched his lips with music,—lit his brow,

Even as a fane upon a sunward hill,

For strength, gave scorn, the pride that would not bow,

The glorious weapon of a dauntless will.

But that the surcharged spirit—a vapor pent

In beetling crags—a torrent barriered long—

A wind 'gainst heaven's four winds imminent—

Might memorably vent its noble song,

Each soaring gift was fretted with a band

That deadlier clung which way he fain would press: 126