 | The Battle-Day and Other Poems |  |
Then the lot the most barren, the lot the most great,
Lindsay chose from the garner of treacherous fate:
To be hated by many, by few to be bless'd,
Do good unto all, and receive it from none,
To wake and to watch while all others may rest,
And die ere one half of his task has been done.
To die as he lived: all strange, great, and alone,
Mourned not in tears, but recorded in stone.
Lindsay chose from the garner of treacherous fate:
To be hated by many, by few to be bless'd,
Do good unto all, and receive it from none,
52
And die ere one half of his task has been done.
To die as he lived: all strange, great, and alone,
Mourned not in tears, but recorded in stone.
Soon the rumour crept and came,
Still and low as stifled flame,
That in some distant spot of earth
A vast great spirit had gone forth.
Wanderers strange from door to door,
And lands remote, the tidings bore.
Uncertain first, the echoes wild
Floated like dreams athwart a child:
A breath, a whisper, then a word
That grew familiar as 'twas heard,
Till quick achievement, pace on pace,
With giant march grasped time and space,
And clearer seen in glory's height,
Forth flashed the hero on the sight!
Then shouts the mass—it knows not why—
Save that another raised the cry;
Those living echoes of the crowd,
From hearts most shallow still most loud,
As answering notes are shrillest thrown
From barest rock and bleakest stone.
Still and low as stifled flame,
That in some distant spot of earth
A vast great spirit had gone forth.
Wanderers strange from door to door,
And lands remote, the tidings bore.
Uncertain first, the echoes wild
Floated like dreams athwart a child:
A breath, a whisper, then a word
That grew familiar as 'twas heard,
Till quick achievement, pace on pace,
With giant march grasped time and space,
And clearer seen in glory's height,
Forth flashed the hero on the sight!
Then shouts the mass—it knows not why—
Save that another raised the cry;
53
From hearts most shallow still most loud,
As answering notes are shrillest thrown
From barest rock and bleakest stone.
Thus steals on time a hero-name,
Deserved or undeserved, the same;
From million lips in thunder hurled,
Bursts the loud anthem o'er the world:
Then bow the nations, prostrate laid
Before the God themselves have made;
But, when temptation comes at last,
When power is strong, and peril past—
Then shall we know the workman's hands:
False greatness sinks—true greatness stands.
Deserved or undeserved, the same;
From million lips in thunder hurled,
Bursts the loud anthem o'er the world:
Then bow the nations, prostrate laid
Before the God themselves have made;
But, when temptation comes at last,
When power is strong, and peril past—
Then shall we know the workman's hands:
False greatness sinks—true greatness stands.
| The Battle-Day and Other Poems | |