of Saville
In a soul more stalwart and loftier far than the bulk of the human kind,
Whose motive is not a coward’s, to spare itself woe and disgrace,
But to rid the world of a tainted thing, to die for the sake of the race.
Yet if so be that one conquers temptation and out of the gates of hell
Flame-blackened with shrivelling garments back cometh alive and well,
There’s not on the earth a stronger soul than such a king-spirit must be,
That hath even outdaunted Satan himself, bidding him tremble and flee,—
Nothing can shake the integrity, the rock’s impregnable strength
Of the fort long assaulted that now is left to its hard won peace at length,—
Exalted, serene, the spirit shall reign in its untouched citadel,
And look henceforth with an equal eye on the things of heaven or hell;
Less ineffable now is the heliotrope scent, and life seemeth scarcely so sweet,
But neither looms death so dragonish grim nor annihilate dark so complete,
