The Splendid Spur.

Not on the neck of prince or hound,          Nor on a woman's finger twin'd,      May gold from the deriding ground          Keep sacred that we sacred bind:             Only the heel             Of splendid steel          Shall stand secure on sliding fate,          When golden navies weep their freight.      The scarlet hat, the laurell'd stave         Are measures, not the springs, of worth;      In a wife's lap, as in a grave,         Man's airy notions mix with earth.             Seek other spur             Bravely to stir         The dust in this loud world, and tread         Alp-high among the whisp'ring dead.      Trust in thyself,--then spur amain:         So shall Charybdis wear a grace,         Grim Aetna laugh, the Libyan plain         Take roses to her shrivell'd face.              This orb--this round              Of sight and sound--         Count it the lists that God hath built         For haughty hearts to ride a-tilt.