 | The book of the dead |  |
193
[XCVII. Let me not scorn my better self]
Let me not scorn my better self,
And drag my nobler nature down
To that degrading scale of pelf
That measures out the red-faced clown,
And drag my nobler nature down
To that degrading scale of pelf
That measures out the red-faced clown,
Who, in his coarse, indecent way,
Would chaffer for a good man's fame;
And give his stock of lies in pay,
And shut for gold his mouth of shame.
Would chaffer for a good man's fame;
And give his stock of lies in pay,
And shut for gold his mouth of shame.
Bought peace, at any price, is dear;
Peace, with such knaves, can only stand
When it has wrung from beaten fear
Its title with the naked brand.
Peace, with such knaves, can only stand
When it has wrung from beaten fear
Its title with the naked brand.
I sound a challenge to my foes;
I plunge into the doubtful fight;
To right and left I deal my blows:
I ask no aid, no greater might
I plunge into the doubtful fight;
To right and left I deal my blows:
I ask no aid, no greater might
194
Than that which falls from God above;
Or from the Soul who silent stands,
Gazing on me with patient love,
Stretching o'er me his blessing hands.
Or from the Soul who silent stands,
Gazing on me with patient love,
Stretching o'er me his blessing hands.
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