English poem
Say, What Is Honour?--'Tis The Finest Sense
Composed 1809.--Published 1815
Say, what is Honour?--'Tis the finest sense Of justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim, And guard the way of life from all offence Suffered or done. When lawless violence Invades a Realm, so pressed that in the scale Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail, Honour is hopeful elevation,--whence Glory, and triumph. Yet with politic skill Endangered States may yield to terms unjust; Stoop their proud heads, but not unto the dust-- A Foe's most favourite purpose to fulfil: Happy occasions oft by self-mistrust Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.
VARIANTS:
1837.
A Kingdom doth assault, and in the scale 1815.
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- Perhaps Some Needful Service Of The State
- Poems On The Naming Of Places
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- She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways
- She Was A Phantom Of Delight
- Silvia, let us from the crowd retire