The civic virtue of a race unbow’d;

The reeling empire, lost in license, sink;

And chattering pigmies of a later age.

1881-2.

1881-2.

 

 Science

Science

Science

Science

Science

I would rejoice in iron arms with those

Who, nobly in the scorn of recompense,

Have dared to follow Truth alone, and thence

To teach the truth—nor fear’d the rage that rose.

No high-piled monuments are theirs who chose

Her great inglorious toil—no flaming death;

To them was sweet the poetry of prose,

But wisdom gave a fragrance to their breath.

Alas! we sleep and snore beyond the night,

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