'OF OLD SAT FREEDOM ON THE HEIGHTS.'

F old sat Freedom on the heights,

The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet.

There in her place she did rejoice,
Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind,
But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.

E

Then stept she down thro' town and field
To mingle with the human race,

And part by part to men reveal'd
The fullness of her face-

Grave mother of majestic works,
From her isle-altar gazing down,
Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,
And, King-like, wears the crown :

Her open eyes desire the truth.
The wisdom of a thousand years
Is in them. May perpetual youth
Keep dry their light from tears;

That her fair form may stand and shine,
Make bright our days and light our dreams,
Turning to scorn with lips divine

The falsehood of extremes!

H! who would fight and march and countermarch,

Be shot for sixpence in a battle-field,

And shovell'd up into some bloody trench
Where no one knows? but let me live my life.

Oh! who would cast and balance at a desk,
Perch'd like a crow upon a three-legg'd stool,
Till all his juice is dried, and all his joints
Are full of chalk? but let me live my life.

Who'd serve the state? for if I carved my name
Upon the cliffs that guard my native land,
I might as well have traced it in the sands;
The sea wastes all: but let me live my life.

Oh! who would love? I woo'd a woman once, But she was sharper than an eastern wind, And all my heart turn'd from her, as a thorn Turns from the sea: but let me live my life.