All tales that speak of high fidelity,
And holy courage, and proud honour, tried,
Search’d, and found steadfast, even to martyrdom,
Are food for mockery! Why should I not cast
From my thinn’d locks the wearing helm at once,
And in the heavy sickness of my soul
Throw the sword down for ever? Is there aught
In all this world of gilded hollowness,
Now the bright hues drop off its loveliest things,
Worth striving for again?