XVII
Triumph
Triumph may be of several kinds.There ‘s triumph in the roomWhen that old imperator, Death,By faith is overcome.
There ‘s triumph of the finer mindWhen truth, affronted long,Advances calm to her supreme,Her God her only throng.
A triumph when temptation’s bribeIs slowly handed back,One eye upon the heaven renouncedAnd one upon the rack.
Severer triumph, by himselfExperienced, who can passAcquitted from that naked bar,Jehovah’s countenance!