They did not wail, "He can't be right,"
They heard and cried, "He must!"
When men of craven soul came in—
Which now may Heaven forbid—
Then stout Tyrtæus would begin:—
"Mere argument can be no sin,
But whining is; we're going to win."
And so, of course, they did.
Tyrtæus' heart has ceased to beat,
But still his measures run,