Among A Race High-Handed, Strong Of Heart, Sea-Rovers, Conquerors, Builders In The Waste, He Had His Birth; A Nature Too Complete, Eager And Doubtful, No Man'S Soldier Sworn And No Man'S Chosen Captain; Born To Fail, A Name Without An Echo: Yet He Too Within The Cloister Of His Narrow Days Fulfilled The Ancestral Rites, And Kept Alive The Eternal Fire; It May Be, Not In Vain; For Out Of Those Who Dropped A Downward Glance Upon The Weakling Huddled At His Prayers, Perchance Some Looked Beyond Him, And Then First Beheld The Glory, And What Shrine It Filled, And To What Spirit Sacred: Or Perchance Some Heard Him Chanting, Though But To Himself, The Old Heroic Names: And Went Their Way: And Hummed His Music On The March To Death.