""Nay­ rather yet that I could raise One hope that warm'd me in the days While still I yearn'd for human praise. "When, wide in soul, and bold of tongue, Among the tents I paused and sung, The distant battle flash'd and rung. "I sung the joyful Paean clear, And, sitting, burnish'd 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 Free space for every human doubt, That the whole mind might orb about — "To search thro' all I felt or 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, To perish, wept for, honour'd, known, And like a warrior overthrown..."