"He, failing to obtain a fitter shield,
Would interpose his body, and so blaze,
Blest in the burning. Ah, were mine to wield
"The intellectual weapon—poet-lays,—
How preferably had I sung one song
Which ... but my sadness sinks me: go your ways!
"I sleep out disappointment." "Come along,
Never lose heart! There 's still as much again
Of our bestowment left to right the wrong
"Done by its earlier moiety—explain