"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...