"Who readeth Æneas carrying old Anchises on his back that wisheth not it were his fortune to perform so-excellent an act?"
"Who readeth Æneas carrying old Anchises on his back that wisheth not it were his fortune to perform so-excellent an act?"
There speaks, anticipating Zutphen, the most perfect knight in our history. Again—
"Truly I have known men that even with reading Amadis de Gaule (which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy) have found their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and especially courage."—
"Truly I have known men that even with reading Amadis de Gaule (which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy) have found their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and especially courage."—
All active virtues be it noted. "We are not damned for doing wrong," writes Stevenson, "but for not doing right. Christ will never hear of negative morality: Thou shalt was ever His word, with which He superseded Thou shalt not. To make our morality centre on forbidden acts is to defile the imagination and to introduce into our judgments of our fellow-men a secret element of gusto.… In order that a man may be kind and honest it may be needful that he should become a total abstainer: let him become so then, and the next day let him forget the circumstance. Trying to be kind and honest will require all his thoughts." Yet how many times a day will we say 'don't' to our children for once that we say 'do'? But here I seem to be within reasonable distance of discussing original sin, and so I return to Mr. Blank.
I do not like Mr. Blank; and I disliked his speech the other night so heartily that it drove me to sit down when I reached home and put my reflections into verse; into a form of verse, moreover, which (I was scornfully aware) Mr. Blank would understand as little as the matter of it. He would think them both impractical. Heaven help the creature!
CHANT ROYAL OF HIGH VIRTUE.
Who lives in suit of armour pent,
And hides himself behind a wall,
For him is not the great event,
The garland, nor the Capitol.
And is God's guerdon less than they?
Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay:
Nor shall the flaming forts be won
By sneaking negatives alone,
By Lenten fast or Ramazàn,
But by the challenge proudly thrown—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
God, in His Palace resident
Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball,
And charged His own Son innocent
Us to redeem from Adam's fall.
—"Yet must it be that men Thee slay."
—"Yea, tho' it must must I obey,"
Said Christ,—and came, His royal Son,
To die, and dying to atone
For harlot and for publican.
Read on that rood He died upon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
And by that rood where He was bent
I saw the world's great captains all
Go riding to the tournament—
Cyrus the Great and Hannibal,
Cæsar of Rome and Attila,
Lord Charlemagne with his array,
Lord Alisaundre of Macedon—
With flaming lance and habergeon
They passed, and to the rataplan
Of drums gave salutation—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
Had tall Achilles lounged in tent
For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall,
The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent,
Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall.
Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey,
Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey—
Instruct thee deep as Solomon—
One only chapter thou shalt con,
One lesson learn, one sentence scan,
One title and one colophon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
High Virtue's hest is eloquent
With spur and not with martingall:
Sufficeth not thou'rt continent:
BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL.
God fashion'd thee of chosen clay
For service, nor did ever say
"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon,"
Save to inure thee, thew and bone,
To be confirmèd of the clan
That made immortal Marathon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
Who lives in suit of armour pent,
And hides himself behind a wall,
For him is not the great event,
The garland, nor the Capitol.
And is God's guerdon less than they?
Nay, moral man, I tell thee Nay:
Nor shall the flaming forts be won
By sneaking negatives alone,
By Lenten fast or Ramazàn,
But by the challenge proudly thrown—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
God, in His Palace resident
Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball,
And charged His own Son innocent
Us to redeem from Adam's fall.
—"Yet must it be that men Thee slay."
—"Yea, tho' it must must I obey,"
Said Christ,—and came, His royal Son,
To die, and dying to atone
For harlot and for publican.
Read on that rood He died upon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
And by that rood where He was bent
I saw the world's great captains all
Go riding to the tournament—
Cyrus the Great and Hannibal,
Cæsar of Rome and Attila,
Lord Charlemagne with his array,
Lord Alisaundre of Macedon—
With flaming lance and habergeon
They passed, and to the rataplan
Of drums gave salutation—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
Had tall Achilles lounged in tent
For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall,
The towers of Troy had ne'er been shent,
Nor stay'd the dance in Priam's hall.
Bend o'er thy book till thou be grey,
Read, mark, perpend, digest, survey—
Instruct thee deep as Solomon—
One only chapter thou shalt con,
One lesson learn, one sentence scan,
One title and one colophon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!
High Virtue's hest is eloquent
With spur and not with martingall:
Sufficeth not thou'rt continent:
BE COURTEOUS, BRAVE, AND LIBERAL.
God fashion'd thee of chosen clay
For service, nor did ever say
"Deny thee this," "Abstain from yon,"
Save to inure thee, thew and bone,
To be confirmèd of the clan
That made immortal Marathon—
Virtue is that beseems a Man!