If they care not Though love were not, If no breath of his burn through them, Joy must borrow Song from sorrow, Fear teach hope the way to woo them. XVI Grief has measures Soft as pleasure's, Fear has moods that hope lies deep in, Songs to sing him, Dreams to bring him, And a red-rose bed to sleep in. XVII Hope with fearless Looks and tearless Lies and laughs too near the thunder; Fear hath sweeter Speech and meeter For heart's love to hide him under. XVIII Joy by daytime Fills his playtime Full of songs loud mirth takes pride in; Night and morrow Weave round sorrow Thoughts as soft as sleep to hide in. XIX Graceless faces, Loveless graces, Are but motes in light that quicken, Sands that run down Ere the sundown, Roseleaves dead ere autumn sicken. XX Fair and fruitless Charms are bootless Spells to ward off age's peril; Lips that give not Love shall live not, Eyes that meet not eyes are sterile. XXI But the beauty Bound in duty Fast to love that falls off never Love shall cherish Lest it perish, And its root bears fruit for ever. TWO LEADERS [Greek: Bate domon, megaloi philotimoi Nuktos paides apaides, hup euphroni pompa.] I O great and wise, clear-souled and high of heart, One the last flower of Catholic love, that grows Amid bare thorns their only thornless rose, From the fierce juggling of the priests' loud mart Yet alien, yet unspotted and apart From the blind hard foul rout whose shameless shows Mock the sweet heaven whose secret no man knows With prayers and curses and the soothsayer's art; One like a storm-god of the northern foam Strong, wrought of rock that breasts and breaks the sea And thunders back its thunder, rhyme for rhyme Answering, as though to outroar the tides of time And bid the world's wave back--what song should be Theirs that with praise would bring and sing you home? II With all our hearts we praise you whom ye hate, High souls that hate us; for our hopes are higher, And higher than yours the goal of our desire, Though high your ends be as your hearts are great. Your world of Gods and kings, of shrine and state, Was of the night when hope and fear stood nigher, Wherein men walked by light of stars and fire Till man by day stood equal with his fate. Honour not hate we give you, love not fear, Last prophets of past kind, who fill the dome Of great dead Gods with wrath and wail, nor hear Time's word and man's: "Go honoured hence, go home, Night's childless children; here your hour is done; Pass with the stars, and leave us with the sun." VICTOR HUGO IN 1877 "Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?"