WITH Shakspeare's manhood at a boy's wild heart,-
Through Hamlet's doubt to Shakspeare near allied,
And kin to Milton through his Satan's pride,-
At Death's sole door he stooped, and craved a dart;
And to the dear new bower of England's art,-
Even to that shrine Time else had deified,
The unuttered heart that soared against his side,-
Drove the fell point, and smote life's seals apart.
Thy nested home-loves, noble Chatterton;
The angel-trodden stair thy soul could trace
Up Redcliffe's spire; and in the world's armed space
Thy gallant sword-play:-these to many an one
Are sweet for ever; as thy grave unknown
And love-dream of thine unrecorded face.