WHO is the happy Warrior? Who
is he
That every man in arms should wish
to be?
--It is the generous Spirit, who,
when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath
wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his
boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward
light
That makes the path before him
always bright:
Who, with a natural instinct to
discern
What knowledge can perform, is
diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops
not there,
But makes his moral being his prime
care;
Who, doomed to go in company with
Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable
train!
Turns his necessity to glorious
gain;
In face of these doth exercise a
power
Which is our human nature's highest
dower;
Controls them and subdues,
transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their
good receives:
By objects, which might force the
soul to abate
Her feeling, rendered more
compassionate;
Is placable--because occasions rise
So often that demand such
sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge,
even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to
endure,
As more exposed to suffering and
distress;
Thence, also, more alive to
tenderness.
--'Tis he whose law is reason; who
depends
Upon that law as on the best of
friends;
Whence, in a state where men are
tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse
ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation
rest,
He labours good on good to fix, and
owes
To virtue every triumph that he
knows:
--Who, if he rise to station of
command,
Rises by open means; and there will
stand
On honourable terms, or else
retire,
And in himself possess his own
desire;
Who comprehends his trust, and to
the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of
aim;
And therefore does not stoop, nor
lie in wait
For wealth, or honours, or for
worldly state;
Whom they must follow; on whose
head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come
at all:
Whose powers shed round him in the
common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar
grace;
But who, if he be called upon to
face
Some awful moment to which Heaven
has joined
Great issues, good or bad for human
kind,
Is happy as a Lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a Man
inspired;
And, through the heat of conflict,
keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he
foresaw;
Or if an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the
need:
--He who, though thus endued as
with a sense
And faculty for storm and
turbulence,
Is yet a Soul whose master-bias
leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle
scenes;
Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er he
be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to
approve;
More brave for this, that he hath
much to love:--
'Tis, finally, the Man, who, lifted
high,
Conspicuous object in a Nation's
eye,
Or left unthought-of in
obscurity,--
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish
or not--
Plays, in the many games of life,
that one
Where what he most doth value must
be won:
Whom neither shape of danger can
dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness
betray;
Who, not content that former worth
stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the
last,
From well to better, daily
self-surpast:
Who, whether praise of him must
walk the earth
For ever, and to noble deeds give
birth,
Or he must fall, to sleep without
his fame,
And leave a dead unprofitable
name--
Finds comfort in himself and in his
cause;
And, while the mortal mist is
gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of
Heaven's applause:
This is the happy Warrior; this is
He
That every Man in arms should wish
to be.
William Wordsworth 1806
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