Sonnet 7 Poem by Joanna Baillie

I'VE seen my day before its noon decline,
And dark is still the future, nor, alas!
Can Hope, with all the magic of her glass,
Irradiate the deep gloom which fate malign
Has gather'd round;--yet will I not repine;
For tho' the courage, that can do and dare,
Be brightest glory, unsubdued to bear,
That calmer, better virtue may be mine;--
For this is of the mind;--to slay, be slain,
Asks but a moment's energies, and Fame
First wakens and then keeps alive the flame;
But Patience must itself, itself sustain,
And must itself reward, nor hope to find
The praise or the compassion of mankind.