Across the sea the sudden message came,
" Dickens is dead! " and thrilled a nation's heart,
As all at once the splendor of his fame
Illumed the world of Art!
From state to state, on wings of lightning flew
The mournful tidings, till from shore to shore,
Each grave professor, as each schoolboy knew
That Dickens was no more!
Nuns lisped it as at secret shrines they knelt:
In saddened cities men with paces slow
Moved to their tasks, and Age and Childhood felt
A brotherhood of woe.
But ah, not dead, though from our sight removed!
A household friend, he lives and lingers still,
Enshrined in every heart with names beloved,
The children of his will.
By Genius led, the phantom shapes arise,
Of jovial Mirth, and Bigotry and Cant,
And heavenly Charity in lowly guise,
And Penury and Want,
And dauntless Hope that looks beyond the grave,
And splendid misery and gilded vice,
And Folly's dupe, and Fashion's painted slave,
And Pride with heart of ice.
Nor yet forgotten be the glorious times.
Of song and wassail, and of bounteous cheer,
Green merry Christmas, with its frosty chimes,
To mirth and memory dear!
Nor we alone! but on from age to age,
Shall unborn thousands own the potent spell,
And laugh when Pickwick comes upon the stage,
Or weep for little Nell!
For them again shall Jingle play his part,
The Fat Boy sleep, or lone, lorn Gummidge grieve,
Or Heep conspire, or Bunsby con the chart,
And sage opinion give.
Full oft for them shall Lady Dedlock hear
A ghostly footstep when the winds arise;
Or little Joe " move on " from year to year,
And Pecksniff moralize.
And many a time shall Tapley laugh at fate,
Or Scrooge at Marley's spectre stand aghast,
Or grand Micawber, impecunious wait
The luck that comes at last!
How oft in Pinch shall want and worth combine!
In Dombey, conscience light her secret hell!
How oft in Cuttle homely virtue shine;
In Fagin, vice repel!
Oh! great Magician in the world of thought!
Kind teacher, whom we shall not see again,
God grant that these, the lessons thou hast taught,
May not be all in vain!
" Dickens is dead! " and thrilled a nation's heart,
As all at once the splendor of his fame
Illumed the world of Art!
From state to state, on wings of lightning flew
The mournful tidings, till from shore to shore,
Each grave professor, as each schoolboy knew
That Dickens was no more!
Nuns lisped it as at secret shrines they knelt:
In saddened cities men with paces slow
Moved to their tasks, and Age and Childhood felt
A brotherhood of woe.
But ah, not dead, though from our sight removed!
A household friend, he lives and lingers still,
Enshrined in every heart with names beloved,
The children of his will.
By Genius led, the phantom shapes arise,
Of jovial Mirth, and Bigotry and Cant,
And heavenly Charity in lowly guise,
And Penury and Want,
And dauntless Hope that looks beyond the grave,
And splendid misery and gilded vice,
And Folly's dupe, and Fashion's painted slave,
And Pride with heart of ice.
Nor yet forgotten be the glorious times.
Of song and wassail, and of bounteous cheer,
Green merry Christmas, with its frosty chimes,
To mirth and memory dear!
Nor we alone! but on from age to age,
Shall unborn thousands own the potent spell,
And laugh when Pickwick comes upon the stage,
Or weep for little Nell!
For them again shall Jingle play his part,
The Fat Boy sleep, or lone, lorn Gummidge grieve,
Or Heep conspire, or Bunsby con the chart,
And sage opinion give.
Full oft for them shall Lady Dedlock hear
A ghostly footstep when the winds arise;
Or little Joe " move on " from year to year,
And Pecksniff moralize.
And many a time shall Tapley laugh at fate,
Or Scrooge at Marley's spectre stand aghast,
Or grand Micawber, impecunious wait
The luck that comes at last!
How oft in Pinch shall want and worth combine!
In Dombey, conscience light her secret hell!
How oft in Cuttle homely virtue shine;
In Fagin, vice repel!
Oh! great Magician in the world of thought!
Kind teacher, whom we shall not see again,
God grant that these, the lessons thou hast taught,
May not be all in vain!