  ’Tis not by action only, not by deed, Though that be just and holy, pure and wise, That man may to his last perfection rise; Of suffering as of doing he has need: Thus prospers with due change the heavenly seed, While stormy night succeeds to sunny day; Thus the good metal, proven every way, From the last dross that clung to it is freed. And thus for thee, O glorious man, on whom Love well deserved, and honour waited long, In thy last years in place of timely ease There did remain another loftier doom, Pain, travail, exile, peril, scorn and wrong— |
|
