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THE PRINCE OF WALES AT THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON.

A Poem which obtained the Chancellor's Medal at the Cambridge Commencement, 1861, by F. W. H. Myers, Trinity College, and recited by him in the Senate House, May 21.

“Hic vir, hic est.”

Behold he reared a race and ruled them not, And he shall rule a race he did not rear: Warrior and prince, their former feud forgot, Have found a meeting here.

And as of all that breathes the eldest birth Sometimes in ages out of human ken Lived in the glory of the primal earth A life unknown to men;

And in their time they perished as was meet, They perished each as he had lived, alone, And one or two of them beneath our feet Have stiffened into, stone;

And one is standing under iron skies, Beyond the range of life, the rule of law, Locked in the arias of everlasting ice, A wonder and an awe.

With such a marvel looked he on the tomb Of that the rebel chief; forgiven at length, With such a reverence pondered he the doom Of that departed strength.

And as he thought on him that lay below, Of what a mighty one the bones were dust, Surely by some strange sense he seemed to know The presence of the Just.

Surely he could not his own thought control, But mute in expectation bent his head: Seemed it not silently A solemn soul Spake, to him from the dead?

And thereunto he listened wondering, While thus it said or thus it seemed to say, Live with the light and, slowly vanishing, Dead with the dying day.

I crave no pardon, Prince, that led by me This land revolted from thy fathers' rod: It was not I that set the people free, It was not I, but God.

Nor always shall a race with one accord Yield due allegiance to a foreign throne, No, nor shall always bow them to a lord Whom they have never known.

Neither can one consent for ever bind Parent and offspring, but they shall at length A closer union in disunion find, In separation strength.

Therefore at last in wrath the land arose, And gathered frenzy from contest begun, And on their kinsmen turning as their foes Fought till the fight was won.

But through their tumult was I still the same, And with one watchword kept the land in awe, For ever stedfast to the single name Of liberty and law.

Then as at length an end was put to strife, And freedom born from our calamity, And the long labour of heroic life Had taught us victory:

By many a wild wood, many a river fair, Where stately Susquehanna sweeps along, And where the nightingale on Delaware Shrills everlasting song:

And where the sun on broad Missouri sleeps, Or loud St. Lawrence speeds him stedfastly, And where the strength of Niagara leaps In thunder to the sea:

Or those that sail Huronian deeps upon, Or tread Ontario's solitary shore; And all the peoples west to Oregon, And north to Labrador,

At length delivered from a foreign yoke, And finding fair conclusion to foul strife, The stately cities filled with nobler folk, And leapt to lustier life.

Yea, from long tutelage risen a man at length The mighty land took courage mightily, To grow for evermore from strength to strength, For evermore be free.

And as the saviour of a royal race, In ruddy gold inwrought divinely, saw The Just at Council in a holy place, And Cato gave them law:

Even so for many a country had I care, And many a delegate obeyed my word; No thought of wealth, no thought of birth was there, Their greatest was their lord.

Yea, for I sought their profit as my own, But in false ways their baser captains trod: Each loved his own advantage: I alone My people and my God,

Therefore I ruled them till my work was done, And ordered all their matters as was best: And when at length my race was nobly run I entered into rest.

Simple I died as when I bad my birth, Unsoiled by lucre and unwarped by fame; Leaving for ever to the sons of earth My nation and my name.

In silence bent the prince an awful head, In solemn silence turned him from the spot: He heard the spirit of the mighty dead, He heard and answered not.

He left him to his glory and his rest, Where ever over-rained and over-shone, Beneath the glimmer of the waning west Shall that great ghost sleep on.

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But he returned him to his heritage O'er many lands and many seas between, And found the ruler of a reverent age In majesty the Queen.

Who knowing well what such a love can do, And what to her a mother's care became, The future monarch of our race unto Herself hath shown the same.

With such a rule her firstborn did she rear To tread the ways wherein his fathers trod; So waxed his wisdom in the single fear Of Justice and of God.

Such life of old the sturdy Sabine knew, And Romulus was reared from such a home: And with such sons to great dominion grew The Queen of cities, Rome.

likewise up-treasuring for time to be Their future lord the flower of England saw The wisdom of prophetic history, The legend of The law.

Yea they beheld him leading fearless days In modest confidence and manly truth, For ever winning with his royal ways The heart of all the youth.

Unconsciously for ever compassing A reign no turbulence shall think to move, For no prerogative can fence a king Like to his peoples love.

But when the time was ripe she bade him go, Nor to his ancient halls return again, Till he might wander far, and widely know The ways and homes of men:

For surely such a science well befits The son who springs with half the earth his own, And with more honour such a sovereign sits Upon a reverenced throne.

Not Alexander led so far his hosts Across the earth, a never travelled way, Beyond strange streams and o'er astonished coasts Bound for the breaking day,

Nor drave so far the victor youth divine The linked tigers of his leafy car, Nor did the robber of the royal kine His course extend so far.

Albeit he caught the brazen-footed deer, And laid the curse of Erymanthus low, And shook at Lerna o'er the affrighted mere The terror of his bow.

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Hail flower of Europe, heir of half the earth, Descendant noble of a noble line! Blest none from heaven with so bright a birth, So fair a fate as thine.

Not at thy coming is vague terror shed From hideous oracles and homes of guile, Not at thy coming roar with nameless dread The myriad mouths of Nile,

But for thy coming doth thy people wait With stedfast confidence and hope serene; And such a king expect to celebrate As even now a queen:

And to thy coming looks whate'er of good Is anywise oppressed or overworn, Or anywhere for lack of hardihood Is subject unto scorn:

Albeit for thee be little left to do, And after noble mother noble son This task alone shall find, to carry through The work so well begun.

For such thy mission, prince, and such thy praise, To war for ever with the powers of wrong, To lift the humble into happier days, Yea, and to crush the strong.

Oh might so long a life to me remain And such a sacred strength in me increase, To tell of thee, the wonder of thy reign, Of honour and of peace.

Oh might I see, nor only thus presage, The mighty months at length begin to roll, And feel the glory of a grander age Strike on my startled soul.

Nor me should Thracian Orpheus vanquish then Nor Linus, glad in mother or in sire, No, nor Apollo strike more sweet to men The music of his lyre.

Long time, O Prince, in honour held thine own, With life song-worthy of all bards that sing, And in thy season failing, leave thy throne To many a gracious king:

Until all storm at length be overpast, And every land in darkness lying still Be filled with light, and every race at last Learn their Redeemer's will:

Till every wandering sheep have turned him home, And shaped to pruning-hooks be every sword, And all the kingdoms of the earth become The kingdom of the Lord.