Say, what is honor? 'Tis the finest sense
Of justice which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disdain,
And guard the way of life from all offence
Suffered or done. When lawless violence
A kingdom doth assault, and in the scale
Of perilous war her weightiest armies fail.
Honor 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 favorite purpose to fulfil;
Happy occasions oft, by self-mistrust,
Are forfeited; but infamy doth kill.
"Cast forth thy act, thy word, into the ever-loving, ever-living universe. It is a seed-grain that cannot die; unnoticed today (says one), it will be found flourishing as a Banyan grove (perhaps, alas! as a hemlock forest), after a thousand years."
