What though thine arm hath conquered in the fight

What though thine arm hath conquered in the fight,—
What though the vanquished yield unto thy sway,
Or riches garnered pave thy golden way, —
Not therefore hast thou gained the sovran height
Of man's nobility! No halo's light

From these shalt round thee shed its sacred ray;
If these be all thy joy, — then dark thy day,
And darker still thy swift approaching night!

But if in thee more truly than in others
Hath dwelt love's charity; — if by thine aid
Others have passed above thee, and if thou,

Though victor, yieldest victory to thy brothers,
Though conquering conquered, and a vassal made, —
Then take thy crown, well mayst thou wear it now.