Эдмунд Кларенс Стедман (Edmund Clarence Stedman)

Ad Vigilem

What seest thou, where the peaks about thee stand,
⁠     Far up the ridge that severs from our view
⁠     That realm unvisited? What prospect new
Holds thy rapt eye? What glories of the land,
Which from yon loftier cliff thou now hast scanned,
⁠     Upon thy visage set their lustrous hue?
⁠     Speak, and interpret still, O Watchman true,
The signals answering thy lifted hand!

And bide thee yet! still linger, ere thy feet
⁠     To sainted bards that beckon bear thee down—
Though lilies, asphodel, and spikenard sweet
⁠     Await thy tread to blossom; and the crown
Long since is woven of Heaven's palm-leaves, meet
⁠     For him whom Earth can lend no more renown. 

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