Page:Shelley, a poem, with other writings (Thomson, Debell).djvu/30

12 "Thou hast not failed; where holy love and truth   Contend with Evil failure cannot be: Their sorest scars claim reverence not ruth,   Their worst repulse is still a victory.   Thou, well-belovèd, who didst bend the knee In pure self-sacrifice to meet God's frown, Kneeling wert circled with the martyr's crown.

"Music is sweet, whatever madmen's ears  Be startled and tormented by the strain; Sunshine is glorious, whatever spheres   Cloud themselves from it in dark storm and rain:   Your spirit is as pure from worldly stain As is a moonbeam on a shore of slime; You sank not your Eternity in Time.

"O wretched Earth! God sends thee age by age,  In pity of thy wild perpetual moan, The saint, the bard, the hero, and the sage:   But still the lofty life is led alone,   The singer sings as in a tongue unknown, The sage's wisdom lamps his single urn; Thou wilt not heed or imitate or learn.

"The blood of prophets thou hast loved to shed  Still keepeth green thy fields, whose costly soil Is of the dust of nameless heroes dead;    The only music in the vast turmoil   Of all thy complicated strife and toil Was breathed from poets whom you starved with scorn: O ever-unregenerate world forlorn!"