The world invites thee—go, Lorenzo, go;
Be thine the statesman’s toil, or poet’s song;
Charm with thy eloquence the listening throng;
Or bear thy country’s lightnings on the foe!
Go; thou wert formed to shine such scenes among,
And gain the garlands that to wit belong:
Away; nor turn to heed my parting woe!
I shall remain in lonely shades apart
Not blest, but patient; and my pleasure be
To catch the distant echoes of thy fame,
And pray thy proud preeminence to see!
Nor thou forget, the while there is a heart
That beats with pride and rapture at thy name,
And swells to bursting at one thought of thee!