Our dearest hopes; to her must yield.
Not oftenest does the martyr gain
By sacrifice his righteous fame:—
And this man knew it, stood the strain
Of silent trial. He prized the name
Of truth, and kept it free from stain.
If he betrayed not, death was sure;
Before him stood the murderous thief.
He did not flinch…Of one life fewer
The angels turned the blood-sealed leaf