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 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
24
GENTLEMAN.
There is a title beyond monarchs' reach,
Caged in their splendour blind,
And yet within the humblest grasp of each,
Who gentle is and kind—
With majesty of mind,
Which gives its greatness in the tender speech,
And acts that pasture find,
From the lone stand in the lost sufferer's breach,
And lessons large that none but children teach—
Whom laws unwritten bind,
Not codes that cowards grind
To one dull shape, like shingle on the beach.
Caged in their splendour blind,
And yet within the humblest grasp of each,
Who gentle is and kind—
With majesty of mind,
Which gives its greatness in the tender speech,
And acts that pasture find,
From the lone stand in the lost sufferer's breach,
And lessons large that none but children teach—
Whom laws unwritten bind,
Not codes that cowards grind
To one dull shape, like shingle on the beach.
There is a title, grander than the crown
So often won by fool,
Which sits as well on forehead seamed and brown,
With knowledge not from school,
As on the bloody tool,
Who only rose by trampling weakness down,
To gain his velvet stool;
A title purchased not by dead men's frown,
Nor the red murder of some helpless town,
Which like the evening cool
Fans some forgotten pool—
Whose simple kindness is its sole renown.
So often won by fool,
Which sits as well on forehead seamed and brown,
With knowledge not from school,
As on the bloody tool,
Who only rose by trampling weakness down,
To gain his velvet stool;
A title purchased not by dead men's frown,
Nor the red murder of some helpless town,
Which like the evening cool
Fans some forgotten pool—
Whose simple kindness is its sole renown.
There is a title, all unknown to Lust,
Which behind golden screen
Would rob the orphan of her scanty crust,
And comfort that had been,
Had it not stepped between—
For him who faithful dares to be and just,
Though knaves should proudly ween,
Who greatly loves and lives, because he must
Uplift the fallen woman from the dust,
As who has ever seen
In outcast even a Queen,
And to enthrone her holds Divine his trust.
Which behind golden screen
Would rob the orphan of her scanty crust,
And comfort that had been,
Had it not stepped between—
For him who faithful dares to be and just,
Though knaves should proudly ween,
Who greatly loves and lives, because he must
Uplift the fallen woman from the dust,
As who has ever seen
In outcast even a Queen,
And to enthrone her holds Divine his trust.
There is a title which through ages ran,
And lent our England grace
When clouds and darkness reared their threatening ban,
And left its heavenly trace;
Which spurning vulgar race,
Prefers its honour to the imperial plan,
And principle to place—
A title, rank and riches may but scan
And envy still, yet compass never can,
By tinsel, show or lace—
The brightness of God's Face,
First shown by Christ—the Christian gentleman.
And lent our England grace
When clouds and darkness reared their threatening ban,
And left its heavenly trace;
Which spurning vulgar race,
Prefers its honour to the imperial plan,
And principle to place—
A title, rank and riches may but scan
And envy still, yet compass never can,
By tinsel, show or lace—
The brightness of God's Face,
First shown by Christ—the Christian gentleman.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |