Volume 5 — Original. A Family Motto.

A well proportioned ancient shield, And on the azure-tinted field The red crusader's cross: Words scarce could tell at what a loss The well-read scholar stood— In what an earnest, startled mood, Beneath the ancient, comely shield, And red cross on the azure field, This motto's thread He whispering read, "Fortiter gerit crucem." A true crusader, staunch and bold, Was he, my good ancestor old, Who thus could boast his cross He bore unmindful of the loss: "Strong, strong his cross to bear," Comes down in characters most fair; Comes down a glory unto me Through many a bloody century; The good seed kept Though old faith slept, "Fortiter gerit crucem."

Though old faith slept! a deep blush came Across his cheek, a blush of shame: That bold crusader's cross, Borne in the very teeth of loss, No longer worn with pride; His conscience told him, laid aside Like some base superstitions's sign: That cross which from high heaven will shine. When men shall hear, With joy or fear, "Fortiter gerit crucem." Years passed; his quickened eye had scanned The archives rich of many a land. Yet still a purpose, named Not to himself, each spoil had claimed; And day by day to hail On truth's horizon some new sail, Strange sweetness sent through all his veins, Till to his contrite breast he strains That cross severe, While angels hear, "Fortiter gerit crucem."