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 Patient Penelope's heroic fraud, Or frank Nausicaa's innocence unawed—

In vain I challenged his opinion On these and other kindred themes; The master-passion's rude dominion Banished them ever from his dreams. Only of War and War's new arts he spoke, Of liquid fire and masks and poisoned smoke.

The strong unerring missile-flinger Above all poets he enthroned; Tyrtaeus was the only singer Whose spell ungrudgingly he owned, And deeply seamed with honorable scars He paid allegiance to no lord but Mars.

Yet can I dare to be censorious? Nay, when I honestly retrace My life through years of ease inglorious Back to Philippi's headlong race, Needs must I count it far the nobler part To die for country than to live for art. . 21