Epigraph
Assured of worthiness, we do not dread
Competitors; we rather give them hail
And greeting in the lists where we may fail:
Must, if we bear an aim beyond the head!
My betters are my masters; purely fed
By their sustainment I likewise shall scale
Some rocky steps between the mount and vale;
Meanwhile the mark I have, and I will wed.
So that I draw the breath of finer air,
Station is naught, nor footways laurel-strewn,
Nor rivals tightly belted for the race.
God-speed to them! My place is here or there;
My pride is that among them I have place:
And thus I keep the instrument in tune.
GEORGE MEREDITH.