Foil’d by our fellow-men, depress’d, outworn,

We leave the brutal world to take its way,

And, Patience! in another life, we say

4

The world shall be thrust down, and we up-borne.

And will not, then, the immortal armies scorn

The world’s poor, routed leavings? or will they,

Who fail’d under the heat of this life’s day,

8

Support the fervours of the heavenly morn?

No, no! the energy of life may be

Kept on after the grave, but not begun;

And he who flagg’d not in the earthly strife,

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From strength to strength advancing--only he,

His soul well-knit, and all his battles won,

Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life.