I

One by one they go Into the unknown dark-- Star-lit brows of the brave, Voices that drew men's souls. Rich is the land, O Death! Can give you dead like our dead!-- Such as he from whose hand The magic web of romance Slipt, and the art was lost! Such as he who erewhile-- The last of the Titan brood-- With his thunder the Senate shook; Or he who, beside the Charles, Untoucht of envy or hate, Tranced the world with his song; Or that other, that gray-eyed seer Who in pastoral Concord ways With Plato and Hafiz walked.