Within it, to the last! Nor shalt thou learn
The bitter lesson, of what worthless dust
Are framed the idols whose false glory binds
Earth’s fetter on our souls! Thou think’st it much
To mourn the early dead; but there are tear’s
Heavy with deeper anguish! We endow
Those whom we love, in our fond passionate blindness,
With power upon our souls, too absolute
To be a mortal’s trust! Within their hands
We lay the flaming sword, whose stroke alone