Who knows the Will that dwells in modest minds,—
Their wise prevision and their pow'r to do
Gigantic labours patiently, soon finds,
With vatic eye that sees the future through
His inextinguishable trust sustained
By sheer accomplishment, despite dismay
On part of those in whose smug souls ne'er reigned
The governance of Art, and Beauty's sway.

Thus when I first beheld thee and thy band,
With sure prophetic sense could I divine
That only love of Beauty moved thy wand,
And soon a seat on Music's throne were thine.
Brave heart, the years have wrought their vict'ry now;
The fates are with thee and the people bow!