| |
| HONOUR is flashed off exploit, so we say; | |
| And those strokes once that gashed flesh or galled shield | |
| Should tongue that time now, trumpet now that field, | |
| And, on the fighter, forge his glorious day. | |
| On Christ they do and on the martyr may; | 5 |
| But be the war within, the brand we wield | |
| Unseen, the heroic breast not outward-steeled, | |
| Earth hears no hurtle then from fiercest fray. | |
| |
| Yet God (that hews mountain and continent, | |
| Earth, all, out; who, with trickling increment, | 10 |
| Veins violets and tall trees makes more and more) | |
| Could crowd career with conquest while there went | |
| Those years and years by of world without event | |
| That in Majorca Alfonso watched the door. | |
| |
| See Notes. |
| |
