214 ©ak. 
There’s no power 
In ancestry, to make the foolish wise, 
The ignorant learned, the cowardly and base 
Deserving our respect as brave and good. 
All men feel this: nor dares the despot say 
His fiat can endow with truth the soul, 
Or, like a pension, on the heart bestow 
The virtues current in the realms above. 
Hence man’s best riches must be gained—not given; 
His noblest name deserved, and not derived. 
Mrs. Hale. 
Some men are born to endure the toil and strife 
And heavy burdens of the earth. They are 
The pillars in the temple of this life, 
Its strength and ornament; or, hidden far 
Beneath, they form its firm foundation-stone. 
In nobleness they stand distinct and lone, 
Yet other men upon them lean, and fain 
(Such selfishness in human bosoms swells) 
Would lay on them the weight of their own pain. 
Where greatness is, a patient spirit dwells; 
They least repine who bear and suffer most: 
In still and stern endurance they sustain 
The ills whereof all weaker minds complain; 
And in their blessed lot they stand, without a sigh 
or boast. 
MacKellar. 
