Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON THE STATUE OF EBENEZER ELLIOTT BY NEVILLE BURNARD, by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Glory to those who give it! Who erect Last Line: Here they have met; may neither say farewell! Subject(s): Elliott, Ebenezer (1781-1849); Statues | ||||||||
ORDERED BY THE WORKING MEN OF SHEFFIELD. Glory to those who give it! who erect The bronze and marble, not where frothy tongue Or bloody hand points out, no, but where God Ordains the humble to walk forth before The humble, and mount higher than the high. Wisely, O Sheffield, wisely hast thou done To place thy Elliott on the plinth of fame, Wisely hast chosen for that solemn deed One like himself, born where no mother's love Wrapt purple round him, nor rang golden bells, Pendent from Libyan coral, in his ear, To catch a smile or calm a petulance, Nor tickled sowny scalp with Belgic lace; But whom strong Genius took from Poverty And said, Rise, mother, and behold thy child! She rose, and Pride rose with her, but was mute. Three Elliotts there have been, three glorious men Each in his generation. One was doom'd By Despotism and Prelaty to pine In the damp dungeon, and to die for Law, Rackt by slow tortures ere he reacht the grave. A second hurl'd his thunderbolt and flame When Gaul and Spaniard moor'd their pinnaces, Screaming defiance at Gibraltar's frown, Until one moment more, and other screams And other writhings rose above the wave, From sails afire and hissing where they fell, And men half burnt along the buoyant mast. A third came calmly on, and askt the rich To give laborious hunger daily bread, As they in childhood had been taught to pray By God's own Son, and sometimes have prayed since. God heard; but they heard not: God sent down bread; They took it, kept it all, and cried for more, Hollowing both hands to catch and clutch the crumbs. I may not live to hear another voice, Elliott, of power to penetrate, as thine, Dense multitudes; another none may see leading the Muses from unthrifty shades To fields where corn gladdens the heart of Man, And where the trumpet with defiant blast Blows in the face of War, and yields to peace. Therefore take thou these leaves .. fresh, firm, tho' scant To crown the City that crowns thee her son. She must decay; Toledo hath decayed; Ebro hath half-forgotten what bright arms Flasht on his waters, what high dames adorn'd The baldric, what torn flags o'erhung the aisle, What parting gift the ransom'd knight exchanged. But louder than the anvil rings the lyre; And thine hath raised another city's wall In solid strength to a proud eminence, Which neither conqueror, crushing braver men, Nor time, o'ercoming conqueror, can destroy. So now, ennobled by thy birth, to thee She lifts, with pious love, the thoughtful stone. Genius is tired in search of Gratitude; Here they have met; may neither say farewell! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAMBERGER REITER by MARY KINZIE FRAGMENT OF THE HEAD OF A QUEEN by CATE MARVIN STATUE AND BIRDS by LOUISE BOGAN STATUES IN THE PARK by BILLY COLLINS STATUETTE: LATE MINOAN by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE STATUE OF A LIBERTINE by RON PADGETT A FIESOLAN IDYL by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR |
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