To Lord Byron

Byron! 'tis thine alone, on eagles' pinions,
In solitary strength and grandeur soaring,
To dazzle and delight all eyes; outpouring
The electric blaze on tyrants and their minions
Earth, sea, and air, and powers and dominions,
Nature, man, time, the universe exploring;
And from the wreck of worlds, thrones, creeds, opinions,
Thought, beauty, eloquence, and wisdom storing:
O! how I love and envy thee thy glory,
To every age and clime alike belonging;
Link'd by all tongues with every nation's glory.
Thou Tacitus of song! whose echoes, thronging
O'er the Atlantic, fill the mountains hoary
And forests with the name my verse is wronging.