Andrew Marvell

Charles Harpur

SPIRIT, that lookest from the starry fold
        Of truth’s white flock, next to thy Milton there
Accept my reverence though but feebly told.
        And oh! My heart from thy example rare
        Henceforth its being for worthiest ends would bear.
Thy deeds, though plain, were towering all and bold,
And like the stedfast columns that uphold
        Some awful temple, to thy duty were.
How much thy story has enlarged my ken
        Of real greatness! Of mere conquerors I
Read but with anger, or with shame; but when
        Of thee, uplifted into virtue’s sky,
I glory in my brotherhood with men,
        And feel how nobly all may live and die.

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