As in my mortal life can live,

Which those inspire and may survive— The ardent thought, the thought of might And act and glory and delight—

Are in me, all within me are,

As fire and light are in a star.
Where it burns, it there is bright :
The burning is the shining light".

And I perhaps have had the mood Where those that are the wise and good Have stay'd them and themselves the blest Exampled to the docile rest.

And I must onward still; for here

Are impulses that fail nor fear.

Nor do I dread th' impetuous course;
But urge them to their utmost force;
But urge with all my own command,
Most when most with ruling hand.

I well would win what most may be
In this living world for me.

Well though I already know
That the soul is stay'd not so,
Though I now even well can see
What its nobler self should be ;

(22) Ἐκεῖνος ἦν ὁ λύχνος ὁ καιόμενος καὶ φαίνων

D

Well though now I know it so,
And because even thus I know,
And because I trust my thought
Can command as still it ought,
And because I would not think
Whencesoever once to shrink ;
Even so, I dare1 desire
Whatsoe'er may most inspire,
Whatsoe'er I most may win
Of the world which I begin;
Where I think so much may be

Deep delight and high for me;
Where Alcibiades was one,

And things are thought and felt and done
Which well when sought may well be won.
And all delight I deem may be

Stay'd and summ'd23, like memory,

(23) "Les aultres sentent la doulceur d'un contentement et de la prosperité: je le sens ainsy qu'eux: mais ce n'est pas en passant et glissant. Si la faut-il estudier? Savourer et ruminer, pour en rendre graces dignes à celuy qui nous l'octroye. Ils jouyssent les aultres plaisirs, comme ils font celuy du sommeil, sans le cognoistre. A celle fin que le dormir mesme ne m'eschappast ainsy stupidement, j'ay aultrefois trouvé bon qu'on me le troublast, pour obtenir que je l'entreveisse. consulte d'un contentement avec moy: je ne l'escume pas, je le sonde, et plie ma raison à le recueillir, devenue chagrine et desgoustée. Me trouve-je en quelque assiette tranquille, y a-il quelque volupté qui me chatouille? je ne la laisse pas fripponner

Je

Into full fruition wrought
By the vivifying thought,
As were every 24 sense imbued
By the spirit in the blood.

All delights indeed may be

His that well can feel and see;

Who well can win them and can wear,

Because he sees them as they are:

Like those 25 whose names the world are firing, The all-achieving, all-aspiring:

Not at last to tire and turn

Like the fools that mourn or spurn

aux sens, j'y associe mon ame. Non pas pour s'engager, mais pour s'agreer: non pas pour s'y perdre, mais pour s'y trouver. Et l'employer de sa part, à se mirer dans ce prospere estat, à en poiser et estimer le bonheur, et l'amplifier." Montaigne, Essais, III, xiii, De l'Experience; vol. IV, p. 306.

(24) "N'y qu'on produisist stupidement des enfans, par les doights, ou par les talons; ains parlant en reverence, que plustost encores, on les produisit voluptueusement, par les doights et par les talons." Montaigne, Essais, III, xiii, De l'Experience; vol. IV, p. 308.

(25) "Quand je veoy et Cesar, et Alexandre, au plus espais de leur grande besongne, joüyr si plainement des plaisirs humains et corporels, je ne dy pas que ce soit relascher leur ame, je dy que c'est la roidir, soubsmettant par vigueur de couraige, à l'usage de la vie ordinaire, ces violentes occupations, et laborieuses pensées." Montaigne, Essais, III, xiii, De l'Experience; vol. IV, p. 299.

See II, xxxiii, L'Histoire de Spurina; vol. III, p. 169–73.

What they never knew to seek,
Only vain and rash and weak.

There seems a thought, a spirit bright
For ever flaming fire and light,
For ever power and potency

In the conscious mind and high,
That sees in vision near and far

The present Truth of things that are;

A thought that there and thence may be
All aspirings far and free;

Not vague and dim, but bright and high,
And vivid, and reality.

There are ardours, aspirations,

Strivings like the strife of nations—

From my spirit through my blood
Rushing like the lava-flood;

Forth how fully as I look

On the sword and on the book!

-The sword!-the hilt!-the keen bright blade! -The battle far and deep array'd!—

Napoleon's legions o'er the field,

And hosts for Wellington to wield !

The banner'd armies, rank on rank!—
The rising strains, the clang and clank!-
The joyance of the warrior-lord,

Far glancing o'er the squadron'd sward,
With cool command and aspect high
But kindling thought and flashing eye!—

On the glittering steel I gaze;
And I see the distant days

Of my ardent earlier youth
Rising here in vivid truth.

And I hear, again I hear

Strains of music, such as were,
When I heard them high resounding,
My spirit like a war-steed bounding,
Till they rose and rush'd along
Into all tumultuous song--

Strains of music deep and high,
Strains for those that dare and die,
Then the bugle-blast afar,
Then the sounds of gathering war,
Clattering hoofs and steady stamp
Of the hundred thousand's tramp,
Clanging sabres, bayonets clashing,
Cannon-roar and musket-flashing—;
Till I seem'd to grasp the sword,
Urge the spur and shout the word,