‘Let us cross over the rivers and rest under the shade of the trees.’
I've called his name a statue, stern and vast
It rests enthroned upon the mighty past
Fit plinth for him whose image in the mind
Looms up as that of one by God designed.
Fit plinth in sooth! the mighty past for him
Whose simple name is glory's synonym!
Even fancy's self in her enchanted sleep
Can dream no future which may cease to keep
His name in guard, like sentinel, and cry
From time's great bastions, “It shall never die.”