...
Yet sit idle, with aged wife; king,
With gavel and quill half-justice bring,
Those savage masses feed and hoard,
And count themselves, they leap - asleep.
A little profit, the sep'rate few,
With waking eyes a ship could board.
To set new course when mourning due,
While others blink and cry out fraud!
Quoting: Ty_ There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
