Joseph Joachim

BELOV’D of all to whom the muse is dear,

Who hid her spirit of rapture from the Greek

Whereby our art excelleth the antique,

Perfecting formal beauty to the ear:

Thou hast been in England many a year

The interpreter who left us nought to seek,

Making Beethoven’s inmost passion speak,

Bringing the soul of great Sebastian near.

Their music liveth ever and ’tis just

That thou good Joachim so high thy skill

Rank (as thou shalt upon the heavenly hill)

Laurel’d with them, for thy ennobling trust

Remembered when thy loving hand is still

And every ear that heard thee stopt with dust.