University of Virginia Library


58

DUTY.

How like a trumpet from the sentinel
Angel, that standeth in the morning star,
Empanoplied and plumed, as angels are
Whom God doth charge to watch that all be well,
Cometh to me thy call, O terrible,
That, girt, and crown'd, and sworded for Heaven's war,
Standest supreme above the confused jar
Of shock'd antagonisms, and the yell
Of trampled pain! Thou of the solemn eyes,
Firm-fronted Duty, on whose high command
My heart waits awed, stretch forth thy harness'd hand,
And with a louder summons bid arise
My soul to battle. Hark, the muster-roll!
Thy name is call'd. Forth, thou poor conscript soul!