almost exaggerated feeling for others' pain, which showed itself
memorably in face of the blazing _Orient_, and in the harbour at
Teneriffe, and in the cockpit at Trafalgar.

In such lessons as these,--such lessons as _The Happy Warrior_ or
the Patriotic Sonnets teach,--there is, of course, little that is
absolutely novel. We were already aware that the ideal hero should
be as gentle as he is brave, that he should act always from the
highest motives, nor greatly care for any reward save the
consciousness of having done his duty. We were aware that the true
strength of a nation is moral and not material; that dominion which
rests on mere military force is destined quickly to decay, that the
tyrant, however admired and prosperous, is in reality despicable,
and miserable, and alone; that the true man should face death itself
rather than parley with dishonour. These truths are _admitted_ in
all ages; yet it is scarcely stretching language to say that they
are _known_ to but few men. Or at least, though in a great nation
there be many who will act on them instinctively, and approve them
by a self-surrendering faith, there are few who can so put them
forth in speech as to bring them home with a fresh conviction and an
added glow; who can sum up, like AEschylus, the contrast between
Hellenic freedom and barbarian despotism in "one trump's peal that
set all Greeks aflame;" can thrill, like Virgil, a world-wide empire
with the recital of the august simplicities of early Rome.

To those who would know these things with a vital knowledge--a
conviction which would remain unshaken were the whole world in arms
for wrong--it is before all things necessary to strengthen the inner
monitions by the companionship of these noble souls. And If a poet,
by strong concentration of thought, by striving in all things along