Toll, toll, toll! O'er breeze and billow free; And with thy startling lore instruct Each rover of the sea. Tell how o'er proudest joys May swift destruction sweep, And bid him build his hopes on high,-- Lone teacher of the deep! Mrs. Sigourney. CCXXX. THE STRUGGLE FOR FAME. If thou wouldst win a lasting fame,-- If thou the immortal wreath wouldst claim, And make the future bless thy name,-- Begin thy perilous career, Keep high thy heart, thy conscience clear, And walk thy way without a fear. And if thou hast a voice within, That ever whispers, "Work and win," And keeps thy soul from sloth and sin;-- If thou canst plan a noble deed, And never flag till it succeed, Though in the strife thy heart should bleed;-- If thou canst struggle day and night, And, in the envious world's despite, Still keep thy cynosure in sight;-- If thou canst bear the rich man's scorn, Nor curse the day that thou wert born To feed on husks, and he on corn;-- If thou canst dine upon a crust, And still hold on with patient trust, Nor pine that fortune is unjust;-- If thou canst see, with tranquil breast, The knave or fool in purple dressed, Whilst thou must walk in tattered vest;-- If thou canst rise ere break of day, And toil and moil till evening gray, At thankless work, for scanty pay;-- If in thy progress to renown Thou canst endure the scoff and frown Of those who strive to pull thee down;-- If thou canst bear the averted face, The gibe, or treacherous embrace, Of those who run the self-same race;-- If thou in darkest days canst find An inner brightness in thy mind, To reconcile thee to thy kind:-- Whatever obstacles control, Thine hour will come--go on--true soul! Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal. If not--what matters? Tried by fire, And purified from low desire, Thy spirit shall but soar the higher.