Young Roscius

E’en as the sun, beneath the Line, comes forth, Where no prelusive glimmerings warn the night, Strips her dense mantle from the sabled earth, And pours himself at once in floods of light,

So on our eyes, young Day-Star, didst thou break, In dazzling effluence and resistless charm, Ere in thy soul those passions could awake That look’d, and breath’d, and lighten’d from thy form.

We saw them, at thy magic call, appear, Tho’ but till then to manhood only known; Yes, ere upon thy head the thirteenth year The violets of a primy Spring had strown.

In all Expression’s subtlest shades they came Thro’ that Promethean glance, those varied tones, Love, Jealousy, and Horror, Rage, and Shame, Their hopes, their fears, their transports, and their groans.

In thee, and in the scorn of gradual Art, Genius her proudest miracle began; Gave thee despotic empire o’er the heart, Long years ere growth and strength might stamp thee man.

Beneath the crown upon that infant brow, The robe imperial on that fairy frame, Stream’d all which grace and grandeur can bestow, All which a monarch’s dignity proclaim.

Thy Proteus soul each garb of feeling wore, Fire in thine eye, and passion in thine air; And still became thee, and in equal power, Garlands of love, and laurel’d wreaths of war.

Now thrice has Phœbus pass’d each duteous sign Since first thy talents met our wondering gaze; Still in augmenting lustre seen them shine, Still scorning, like himself, all borrow’d rays.

Seen the expansion of thy fair renown, Thy powers, thy graces rising with thy years.— So bright thy morn, what splendours wait thy noon! What trains of light, eclipsing all thy peers!

When Youth and Art’s proud summit thou shalt gain, Passions that now are but illusive deem’d, Then shall their empire in thy heart attain, Then be what long, by miracle, they seem’d:

And when they glow in all their genuine fire, Deeply are felt as gloriously pourtray’d, O! may they nought in actual life inspire That can thy virtue, or thy peace invade!

Above pale Envy’s reach, thy soaring fame Long may accordant multitudes attest! And prosp’rous Love, and pure Religion frame The shield impassive for thy youthful breast!

And may advancing life for thee display The gems of knowledge, and of joy the flowers; Shine unobscur’d on thy consummate day, With softest sun-set gild thine evening hours.

On wealth and rank while rolls Oblivion’s stream, Thy memory o’er its whelming waves shall climb, For thy dear country shall record thy name, And bind thy splendant wreaths on the dark brow of Time.