“BECAUSE NO MAN HATH HIRED US”
S. Matt. xx. 7.
I
TILL I, that am a soldier born, can find
Some war so worthy, I may pledge it straight
Unto my dear and virgin sword for mate,
Who now lies cloistered in her sheath behind,
Must I ride thus in vain; and on my mind
The torment and the thirst of glory wait,
And never cause with zeal inviolate
Be strong enough my haughty youth to bind.
Ah, readier men-at-arms! beneath the trees
Where shepherd-meek, I bear mine altered part,
And watch the charge far off, and think with awe:
I have seen higher, holier things than these,
And therefore must to these refuse my heart, [2]—
That heavenly pride forbids my hand to draw.
[2] Τὸ καλόν: Arthur Hugh Clough.
II
Though all your flags sweep stormily in air,
And thousand hoofs are whirling fiery seed,
The quiet forest hides my folly, freed
From good in reach, nor leagued to aught more fair.
This is my camp of tears, and doubt, and care,
Where I who long to fight may soothe my greed,
Full of sad liberty; and if indeed
The One I lack came hither unaware,—
If sudden stood beside the saddle-bow
The Outcast of all time and every land,
With head drooped like the lily’s parching cup,
I dare to dream that I my King should know,
And lean to kiss, within that wounded Hand,
My only use, my honors, folded up.