the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to the summit round by round.

I count this thing to be grandly true, 5
That a noble deed is a step toward God--
Lifting the soul from the common sod[2]
To a purer air and a broader view.

We rise by things that are under our feet;[3]
By what we have mastered of good and gain; 10
By the pride deposed and the passion slain,
And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.

We hope, we aspire, we resolve, we trust,
When the morning calls us to life and light;
But our hearts grow weary, and ere the night, 15
Our lives are trailing the sordid[4] dust.

We hope, we resolve, we aspire, we pray,
And we think that we mount the air on wings
Beyond the recall of sensual things,
While our feet still cling to the heavy clay. 20

Wings for the angels, but feet for the men![5]
We may borrow the wings to find the way--
We may hope, and resolve, and aspire, arid pray.
But our feet must rise, or we fall again.

Only in dreams is a ladder[6] thrown 25
From the weary earth to the sapphire walls;
But the dreams depart, and the vision falls,
And the Sleeper wakes on his pillow of stone.

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 30
And we mount to the summit round by round.

--_Holland_.

[1] Gradatim. A step at a time.

[2] the common sod. earthly things.

[3] See Longfellow, _The Ladder of Saint Augustine_.

[4] sordid. mean; base.

[5] Good resolves and aspirations ("wings") are not sufficient. We can
rise only step by step by overcoming the petty difficulties of
everyday life.

[6] ladder. A reference to Jacob's ladder (Genesis xxviii, 12).

THE BATTLE OF THE LAKE REGILLUS.[1]

A LAY SUNG AT THE FEAST OF CASTOR AND POLLUX,[2]

ON THE IDES OF QUINTILIS,[3]

IN THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCCLI (B.C. 303).

[_This is the feast of Castor and Pollux, and the anniversary of the
battle of Lake Regillus, which they did so much to win. Let us
remember them, and sing their praises_.]

I

Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note!
Ho, lictors,[4] clear the way!
The Knights[5] will ride, in all their pride,
Along the streets to-day,
To-day the doors and windows