By Lenten fast or Ramazàn;
But by the challenge proudly thrown--
_Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_

God, in His Palace resident
Of Bliss, beheld our sinful ball,
And charged His own Son innocent
Us to redeem from Adam's fall.

"Yet must it be that men Thee slay."
"Yea, tho' it must, must I obey,"
Said Christ; and came, His royal Son,
To die, and dying to atone
For harlot, thief, and publican.
Read on that rood He died upon--
_Virtue is that becrowns a Man!_

Beneath that rood where He was bent
I saw the world's great captains all
Pass riding home from tournament
Adown the road from Roncesvalles--
Lord Charlemagne, in one array
Lords Caesar, Cyrus, Attila,
Lord Alisaundre of Macedon ...
With flame on lance and habergeon
They passed, and to the rataplan
Of drums gave salutation--
_"Virtue is that becrowns a Man!"_
Had tall Achilles lounged in tent
For aye, and Xanthus neigh'd in stall,