 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XXXVII. FORTITUDE.
Man's mind should be of marble, not of clay:A rock-hewn temple, large, majestic, bare;
Not decked with gewgaws, but with life-long care
And toil heroic shaped to stand for aye:
Not like those plaster baubles of the day,
In which the lightest breath of praise or prayer
Crumbles the gauds wherewith they garnished are:
In which we dare not think, and cannot pray;
In which God will not dwell. O Constancy!
Where thou art wanting all our gifts are naught!
Friend of the martyrs—both of those who die,
And those who live—beneath that steadfast eye
The breast-plates and the beaming helms were wrought
Of all our far-famed Christian chivalry!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |