Page:Poems Denver.djvu/71

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ROBERT OF NORMANDY.
65
Above the battlements spread gaily out
Her field of spotless snow. I heard a shout,
That soared to the middle depths of azure heaven,
Rending the clouds!

         Strong hearts to men are given,
To lead them through disaster and through death;
And stronger still, to cast the laurel-wreath
Of triumph hardly won, from off their brow!
But what can make the haughty spirit bow
Submissively to wrong—bend to the dust
Each passionate impulse and there let it rust?

As well the sword, whose flash led on to fame,
Might live in honor, while its owner's name
Was lost amidst the past, nor history's page
Told of his deeds to each succeeding age!
Nor minstrel breathed his name, nor aftertimes
Echoed it, when they heard the joyful chimes
Peal for some triumph won; as well might fame
Die with the dead, or echo back no name.
As the proud heart hide in the dust its wrongs,
And tamely stoop above them!

              There are songs
Sung in sweet childhood, that will fill the heart
With after-dreams of glory—bid upstart
Before the eye, whole ranks of mailed men,
Armed for high conquest, people the wide glen