AMID the murm'ring din and seething strife Of all the world's contending victories, Thou, modest scholar, writing histories Hast caused Judæa's past to pulse with life; Hast conjured, with the magic of thy touch, Whose quiver had the thrill of the sublime, The soul from its clay; and hast rescued time From its only foe: oblivion's clutch, Which holds enthralled beneath its aged crust The teeming mysteries of throbbing thought So many tried to find, yet few have sought To read aright, and read aright, to trust. Great Poet-Thinker, Critic of the Past, Thine is a memory to live, to last! |