Wherefore on God thou callest? 'Tis in vain:
Our hearts our fortunes are until we die,
And naught can change them or for loss or gain
Save Courage at least glance of Honour's eye.
For Honour, daughter of sound brain and blood,
Motions us ever though we may not heed;
She is imperative hunger for the good,
Good so instinctive that to gain we bleed.
Wherefore, dishonoured soul, part from thy love--
Fearfuller wrench than muscle torn from bone--
Or her soul too must perish here. Enough!
I cannot leave her. Then there is but one
Refuge for us now to make trial of,--
Refuge to which I cannot fare alone.