This dull mortality? Nay, then look on me!
Death’s touch hath mark’d me, and I stand amongst you,
As one whose place, i’ th’ sunshine of your world,
Shall soon be left to fill!—I say, the breath
Of th’ incense, floating through yon fane, shall scarce
Pass from your path before me! But even now
I’ve that within me, kindling through the dust,
Which from all time hath made high deeds its voice
And token to the nations. Look on me!
Why hath heaven pour’d forth courage, as a flame