Ii

Pure faith, fond hope, sweet love, with God for guide, Move now the men whose blameless error cast In prison (ah, but love condones the past!) Their subject knaves that were--their lords that ride Now laughing on their necks, and now bestride Their vassal backs in triumph. Faith stands fast Though fear haul down the flag that crowned her mast And hope and love proclaim that truth has lied.

Turn, turn, and turn--so bids the still small voice, The changeless voice of honour. He that stands Where all his life he stood, with bribeless hands, With tongue unhired to mourn, reprove, rejoice, Curse, bless, forswear, and swear again, and lie, Stands proven apostate in the apostate's eye.