High gifts defeated of their due renown,—

Long toil—and this the end!

The end? not ours to scan:

Yet grieve not, children, for your father’s worth; 30

Oh! never wish that in his native earth

He lay, a baser man.

What to the dead avail

The chance success, the blundering praise of fame?

Oh! rather trust, somewhere the noble aim 35

Is crowned, though here it fail.