And win, by sacrifice, the right to reign—
Be glad, that still the spur of your bequest
Urges your heirs their threefold way along—
The way of Toil that craveth not for rest,
Clear Honour, and stark Will to punish wrong!
The seed ye sow'd God quicken'd with His Breath;
The crop hath ripen'd—lo, there is no death!
