I myself would seize their banner; they should follow where it led,
To the triumph of the victors or the pallor of the dead.
It were better than to conquer—from the light of life to go
With such words as once were uttered, off the isle of Floreo:
Here die I, Sir Richard Grenvile, of a free and joyful mood:
Ending earth for God and honor, as a valiant soldier should!
But my present life—what is it? mated, housed, like other men;
Thoughtful of the cost of feeding, valiant only with the pen;
Lying, walled about with custom, on an iron bed of creeds;
Peering out through grated windows at the joy my spirit needs.