What of the battles I would win?

alas! their glory is unheard:

the wind of song wakes not their din

wandering in shadowy glens unstirr’d.

— And the great sorrows that I dream’d?

not all unscathed I thought to rise

high in the dateless dawn, redeem’d,

and bare before eternal eyes.

— And is it then the end of dream?

O heart, that long’d for splendid woe,

our shame to endure this dire extreme

of joy we scorned so long ago!