"in these fading days
To raise a cry that lasts not long,
And round thee with the breeze of song,
To stir a little dust[50] of praise."
The world only applauds accomplished success, and does not care for what
might have been done, had opportunity been given. It is therefore
sufficient that silence should guard Hallam's fame here; because the
writer is assured, that what he is elsewhere doing
"Is wrought with tumult of acclaim."
One cannot but feel that were it not for this immortal elegy, its subject
would have been long since forgotten, like other promising youths who have
died in their Spring.