The time will come, when thou shalt lift thine eyes To watch a long-drawn battle in the skies. While aged peasants, too amazed for words, Stare at the flying fleets of wondrous birds.

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.

And hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast and calm repose.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.