The writings of Robert C. Sands :: :: University of Virginia Library

The sun looks on naught, in his circuit, as great
As the mind whose fixed purpose is stubborn as fate;
That in storm or in sunshine, with foe or with friend,
Unchanged and unchanging, endures to the end.

Attractions unnumbered the needle control,
And it trembles unfaithful, forsaking the pole;
But the resolute will moves sublime in its pride,
Nor will turn for affection or flattery aside.

The old oaks may writhe where the hurricane sweeps,
And the firm bedded rocks may be torn from the steeps—
The pine of the forest may bend to the blast,
But the strong will of man stands erect to the last.

As the Titan, by demons in Caucasus bound,
While the war of mad elements thundered around,
Braved Jove, though the vulture had fastened his fangs,
The stout heart yields not, till it breaks mid its pangs.

When her last sob convulsive great nature shall heave,
And the world its foundations in ruin shall leave,
The end the last stoic shall calmly expect,
And sink proud on the bier of a universe wreck'd.

October 13th, 1825.