In the mid waves of combat, as they bear
Chargers and spearmen onwards, and to make
A reckless bosom’s front the buoyant mark,
On that wild current, for ten thousand arrows—
If thus to dare were valour’s noblest aim,
Lightly might fame be won! But there are things,
Which ask a spirit of more exalted pitch,
And courage temper’d with a holier fire.
Well may’st thou say that these are fearful times;
Therefore, be firm, be patient! There is strength,