Centering thought and reason in one frame,

And in the majesty of quenchless soul,

Rising unto the stature of a man,

[Pg 6]

That is to make life glorious and great,

Dissolving matter in the spiritual,

As the green pine dissolveth into flame;

Not on the breath of popular applause

That is the spectre of all nothingness;

Not on the fawning of a servile crew,

Who kiss the hem of fortune's purple robe,

And lick the dust before prosperity,

Waiting the cogging of the downward scale,

To turn from slaves to bravos in the dark;

Not on the favours of the politic,

Who in the smile of honour, Persian-like,

Pamper the pampered from their banquet halls,

But to his starving cry, when fortune frowns,

Mutter their falsehoods through the bolted gate;

But in the brightness of the inner soul,

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