Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/249

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241

XV.



Say, what is Honour?—'Tis the finest sense
Of justice which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offence
Suffered or done. When lawless violence
A Kingdom doth assault, and in the scale
Of perilous war her weightiest Armies fail,
Honour is hopeful elevation—whence
Glory—and Triumph. Yet with politic skill
Endangered States may yield to terms unjust,
Stoop their proud heads;—but not unto the dust,—
A Foe's most favourite purpose to fulfil!
Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust
Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.