Page:Selections from the American poets (IA selectamerpoet00bryarich).pdf/263

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Henry Ware, Jr.
And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave;But thou dost never close thy burning eye,Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on,While systems change, and suns retire, and worldsSlumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds.The near horizon tempts to rest in vain.Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quitThy long appointed watch; but, sleepless still,Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe,And bid the north for ever know its place. Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust,Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of GodSent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven,And echoed from the outer spheres that boundThe illimitable universe, thy voiceJoin'd the high chorus; from thy radiant orbsThe glad cry sounded, swelling to His praise,Who thus had cast another sparkling gem,Little, but beautiful, amid the crowdOf splendours that enrich his firmament.As thou art now, so wast thou then the same.Ages have roll'd their course, and time grown gray;The earth has gather'd to her womb again,And, yet again, the myriads that were bornOf her uncounted, unremember'd tribes.The seas have changed their beds; the eternal hillsHave stoop'd with age; the solid continentsHave left their banks; and man's imperial works—The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flungTheir haughty honours in the face of Heaven,As if immortal—have been swept away:Shatter'd and mouldering, buried and forgot.But time has shed no dimness on thy front,Nor touch'd the firmness of thy tread youth, strength,And beauty still are thine; as clear, as bright,As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth,Beautiful offspring of his curious skill,
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