Had sought no loftier guerdon. Thus to bleed
Was to be Rome’s high star!—He died—and had his meed.
XIX.
But praise—and dearer, holier praise be theirs,
Who, in the stillness and the solitude
Of hearts press’d earthwards by a weight of cares,
Uncheer’d by Fame’s proud hope, th’ ethereal food
Of restless energies, and only view’d
By Him whose eye, from his eternal throne,
Is on the soul’s dark places; have subdued