Attempt > Volume 1 and Select writings

134
THE ATTEMPT
And when the comhatant draws near
To the field of battle gory,
It stirs him noble deeds to do,
And to win the palm of glory.
The conquest won, the little flame
Returns to holy stillness,
And ’neath the victor’s eyes there springs
A stream in lonely fulness.
And when th’ unwary pilgrim’s feet
To downward paths are tending,
Then stirs the flame within to point
The danger o’er him pending.
And then in flying sparks ’tis lost,
And in the cheek’s shamed blushes ;
And, streaming through the heaving breast,
The foolish longing hushes.
Thou fool! delude not thou thine heart 1
The flame thou quenchest never ;
Its light, though covered for a while,
Soon glimmers bright as ever.
And ere thou know’st, this beam awakes
Flames far too fiercely glowing,
And o’er thee through the darkness grey,
These restless fires are flowing.
Megaig Bheg.