A fellowship’s his only aim.
Not his to lie upon the shelf;
Poor wretch sustainer of himself
A living comes thro’ his renown.
Nor unrewarded goes he down
To the small hamlet whence he sprung,
A hero great as bards have sung.
From The Lays of the Mocking Sprite.
(Metcalfe and Sons, Cambridge.)
The Lay of the First Minstrel.