Than all her flags ringed round with battle blare;
More her blind Milton voyaging the vast
Than all her squadrons shearing down the blast;
And more is Shakspere, lord of lyric seers,
Than all her conquests of a thousand years.
But none of all the line
(Save only Shelley, darling of the Nine)
Has cried as you have cried the valorous vow
Of Love’s heroic heart, God’s prayer to men
To cease the wolfish battles of the den.