[From Truth of London]
Young gallant soul, unversed in fear,
Who swiftly flew aloft to fame,
And made yourself a world-wide name,
Ere scarce had dawned your brief career.
To glory some but slowly climb
By painful inches of ascent,
And some, hereon though sternly bent,
Ne'er reach it all their life's long time.
But you--you soared as eagles soar;
At one strong flight you flashed on high;
The sudden chance came sudden nigh;
You seized it; off its spoils you bore.
And now, while still the welkin rings
With your unmatched heroic deed,
To paean elegies succeed,
The mournful Muse your requiem sings.
A requiem, yet with triumph rife!
How not, while men their souls would give
To die your death, so they might live
Your "crowded hour of glorious life"?
Great hour, that knows not time nor tide,
Wild hour, that drinks an age's sweets,
Brave hour, that throbs with breathless feats,
Short hour, whose splendours long abide.