8 . Andrew Marvell

SPIRIT, that lookest from the starry fold

Of truth’s white flock, next to thy Milton there

Accept my reverence though but feebly told.

And oh! my heart from thy example rare

Henceforth its being for worthiest ends would bear.

Thy deeds, though plain, were towering all and bold,

And like the stedfast columns that uphold

Some awful temple to thy duty were.

How much thy story has enlarged my ken

Of real greatness! Of mere conquerors I

Read but with anger, or with shame; but when

Of thee, uplifted into virtue’s sky,

I glory in my brotherhood with men,

And feel how nobly all may live and die.