While the voice of the world shouts its chorus--its pean for those who have won; While the trumpet is sounding triumphant, and high to the breeze and the sun Glad banners are waving, hands clapping, and hurrying feet Thronging after the laurel-crowned victors, I stand on the field of defeat, In the shadow, with those who are fallen, and wounded, and dying, and there Chant a requiem low, place my hand on their pain-knotted brows, breathe a prayer, Hold the hand that is helpless, and whisper, "They only the victory win, Who have fought the good fight and have vanquished the demon that tempts us within; Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prize that the world holds on high; Who have dared for a high cause to suffer, resist, fight--if need be, to die." Speak, History! who are Life's victors? Unroll thy long annals and say, Are they those whom the world called the victors? who won the success of a day? The martyrs, or Nero? The Spartans who fell at Thermopylae's tryst, Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges, or Socrates? Pilate, or Christ? --William M. Story. He makes no friend who never made a foe. --Alfred Tennyson. THE TRUE KING 'Tis not wealth that makes a king, Nor the purple coloring; Nor the brow that's bound with gold, Nor gate on mighty hinges rolled. The king is he who, void of fear, Looks abroad with bosom clear; Who can tread ambition down, Nor be swayed by smile or frown, Nor for all the treasure cares, That mine conceals or harvest wears, Or that golden sands deliver Bosomed in the glassy river. What shall move his placid might? Not the headlong thunder's light, Nor all the shapes of slaughter's trade, With onward lance or fiery blade. Safe, with wisdom for his crown, He looks on all things calmly down, He welcomes Fate when Fate is near, Nor taints his dying breath with fear. No; to fear not earthly thing, That it is that makes the king; And all of us, whoe'er we be, May carve us out that royalty. --Seneca, tr. by Leigh Hunt. With comrade Duty, in the dark or day, To follow Truth--wherever it may lead; To hate all meanness, cowardice or greed; To look for Beauty under common clay; Our brothers' burden sharing, when they weep, But, if we fall, to bear defeat alone; To live in hearts that loved us, when we're gone Beyond the twilight (till the morning break!)--to sleep-- That is Success! --Ernest Neal Lyon. The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, Is, not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be, but, finding first What may be, then find out how to make it fair Up to our means; a very different thing. --Robert Browning. BETTER THAN GOLD