All riches, honor, fame's divine estate,
Are due the gentle poet and his song.
The earth is first for him; to him belong
Life's every part and glorious aggregate.
To him the sweet birds carol soon and late,
To him the streams run, and the fairy throng
Of flowers live for his praises, and the strong
Sun and the sea roll tribute to his gate!
Men's trust is his, and childhood's innocent kiss,
And love, and praise of women's gentle eyes;
He pa**es greeting over the abyss
With the heroic spirits of the wise,—
"How fares it with thee in the wilderness?"
"Bravely! and how art thou in Paradise?"