Classic Poem

WHEREIN ONLY THE ANCIENT ELDERS OF SONG ARE WORTHY TO SING HER VIRTUES

The youthful Alexander at the tomb
Of fierce Achilles sighed awhile and said:
" O Fortunate! whom Homer trumpeted
Over the earth and lifted from our doom! "
But Ah! beyond oblivion and the gloom
Of dusty death shall that adorable head
Of gold go down to sleep ungarlanded
Save of the faint few roses I presume
To weave upon her? Homer and Orpheus,
Mantua's shepherd poet should proclaim
The beauty that were wind and fire and flame
To stretch their souls! Alas, that unto us
By unpropitious stars the task is given
Whose cloud of praises must affront her heaven!