“ Forerun thy peers, thy time, and let “ Thou hast not gained a real height, Nor art thou nearer to the light, Because the scale is infinite. “ 'Twere better not to breathe or speak, Than cry for strength, remaining weak, And seem to find, but still to seek. “Moreover, but to seem to find “ Sick art thou-a divided will Still heaping on the fear of ill The fear of men, a coward still. “ Do men love thee ? Art thou so bound “Go, vexed Spirit, sleep in trust; The right ear, that is filled with dust, Hears little of the false or just.” “ Hard task, to pluck resolve,” I cried, “ From emptiness and the waste wide Of that abyss, or scornful pride ! * Nay-rather yet that I could raise One hope that warmed me in the days While still I yearned for human praise. “ When, wide in soul and bold of tongue, Among the tents I paused and sung, The distant battle flashed and rung. “I sung the joyful Pæan clear, And, sitting, burnished without fear The brand, the buckler, and the spear “Waiting to strive a happy strife, To war with falsehood to the knife, And not to lose the good of life “ Some hidden principle to move, To put together, part and prove, And mete the bounds of hate and love “ As far as might be, to carve out for human doubt, That the whole mind might orb about “ To search through all I felt and saw, The springs of life, the depths of awe, And reach the law within the law : “ At least, not rotting like a weed, But having sown some generous seed, Fruitful of further thought and deed, “ To pass, when Life her light withdraws, Not void of righteous self-applause, Nor in a merely selfish cause “In some good cause, not in mine own, “ Then dying of a mortal stroke, What time the foeman's line is broke, And all the war is rolled in smoke." “ Yea!” said the voice, “thy dream was good, 1 “Then comes the check, the change, the fall. “ Thou hadst not between death and birth "That men with knowledge merely played, I told thee-hardly nigher made, Though scaling slow from grade to grade; “ Much less this dreamer, deaf and blind, Named man, may hope some truth to find, That bears relation to the mind. “For every worm beneath the moon up, the fold is on her brow. “If straight thy track, or if oblique, Thou know'st not. Shadows thou dost strike, Embracing cloud, Ixion-like; “And owning but a little more Than beasts, abidest lame and poor, Calling thyself a little lower “ Than angels. Cease to wail and brawl ! Why inch by inch to darkness crawl ? There is one remedy for all.” “O dull, one-sided voice,” said I, may die? “I cannot hide that some have striven, “But heard, by secret transport led, Even in the charnels of the dead, The murmur of the fountain-head “ Which did accomplish their desire, Bore and forbore, and did not tire, Like Stephen, an unquenched fire. “ He heeded not reviling tones, Nor sold his heart to idle moans, Though cursed and scorned, and bruised with stones : " But looking upward, full of grace, He prayed, and from a happy place God's glory smote him on the face.” The sullen answer slid betwixt: I said, “I toil beneath the curse, “ And that, in seeking to do One riddle, and to find the true, I knit a hundred others new : “ Or that this anguish fleeting hence, |