Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/165

Rh What generous beliefs console

The brave whom Fate denies the goal!

If others reach it, is content;

To Heaven's high will his will is bent.

Firm on his heart relied,

What lot soe'er betide,

Work of his hand

He nor repents nor grieves,

Pleads for itself the fact,

As unrepenting Nature leaves

Her every act.

Fell the bolt on the branching oak;

The rainbow of his hope was broke;

No craven cry, no secret tear,—

He told no pang, he knew no fear;

Its peace sublime his aspect kept,

His purpose woke, his features slept;

And yet between the spasms of pain

His genius beamed with joy again.