⁠Comes or can ever come upon us light
⁠Whereby the soul keeps ever truth in sight.
No truth, no strength, no comfort man may win,
No grace for guidance, no release from sin,
⁠Save of his own soul's giving. Deep and bright
⁠As fire enkindled in the core of night
Burns in the soul where once its fire has been
The light that leads and quickens thought, inspired
⁠To doubt and trust and conquer. So he said
⁠Whom Sidney, flower of England, lordliest head
Of all we love, loved: but the fates required
⁠A sacrifice to hate and hell, ere fame
⁠Should set with his in heaven Giordano's name.