Then burst, as from a common breast, The eager laud so long supprest-- A thousand voices, choral-blending, Up to the vaulted dome ascending-- From groined roof and banner'd wall, Invisible echoes answering all-- The very Brethren, grave and high, Forget their state, and join the cry. "With laurel wreaths his brows be crown'd, Let throng to throng his triumph tell; Hail him all Rhodes!"--the Master frown'd, And raised his hand--and silence fell. "Well," said that solemn voice, "thy hand From the wild-beast hath freed the land. An idol to the People be! A foe our Order frowns on thee! For in thy heart, superb and vain, A hell-worm laidlier than the slain, To discord which engenders death, Poisons each thought with baleful breath! That hell-worm is the stubborn Will-- Oh! What were man and nations worth If each his own desire fulfil, And law be banish'd from the earth? "_Valour_ the Heathen gives to story-- _Obedience_ is the Christian's glory; And on that soil our Saviour-God As the meek low-born mortal trod. We the Apostle-knights were sworn To laws thy daring laughs to scorn-- Not _fame_, but _duty_ to fulfil-- Our noblest offering--man's wild will. Vain-glory doth thy soul betray-- Begone--thy conquest is thy loss: No breast too haughty to obey, Is worthy of the Christian's cross!" From their cold awe the crowds awaken, As with some storm the halls are shaken; The noble brethren plead for grace-- Mute stands the doom'd, with downward face; And mutely loosen'd from its band The badge, and kiss'd the Master's hand, And meekly turn'd him to depart: A moist eye follow'd, "To my heart Come back, my son!"--the Master cries: "Thy grace a harder fight obtains; When Valour risks the Christian's prize, Lo, how Humility regains!"