Page:Studies in Song - Swinburne (1880).djvu/57

 O poet hero, lord And father, we record Deep in the burning tablets of the breast Thankfully those divine And living words of thine For faith and comfort in our hearts imprest With strokes engraven past hurt of years And lines inured with fire of immemorial tears.

But who being less than thou shall sing of thee Words worthy of more than pity or less than scorn? Who sing the golden garland woven of three, Thy daughters, Graces mightier than the morn, More godlike than the graven gods men see Made all but all immortal, human born