Who, nobly in the scorn of recompense,
Have dared to follow Truth alone, and thence
To teach the truth—nor fear’d the rage that rose.
No high-piled monuments are theirs who chose
Her great inglorious toil—no flaming death;
To them was sweet the poetry of prose,
But wisdom gave a fragrance to their breath.
Alas! we sleep and snore beyond the night,
Tho’ these great men the dreamless daylight show;
But they endure—the Sons of simple Light—