Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By TheodoreTilton

643 Sir Marmaduke’s Musings

I WON a noble fame;

But, with a sudden frown,

The people snatched my crown,

And, in the mire, trod down

My lofty name.

I bore a bounteous purse;

And beggars by the way

Then blessed me, day by day;

But I, grown poor as they,

Have now their curse.

I gained what men call friends;

But now their love is hate,

And I have learned, too late,

How mated minds unmate,

And friendship ends.

I clasped a woman’s breast,—

As if her heart, I knew,

Or fancied, would be true,—

Who proved, alas! she too!

False like the rest.

I now am all bereft,—

As when some tower doth fall,

With battlement, and wall,

And gate, and bridge, and all,—

And nothing left.

But I account it worth

All pangs of fair hopes crossed—

All loves and honors lost,—

To gain the heavens, at cost

Of losing earth.

So, lest I be inclined

To render ill for ill,—

Henceforth in me instil,

O God, a sweet good-will

To all mankind.