Should banded unions persecute
Opinion, and induce a time

When single thought is civil crime,

And individual freedom mute;

Though Power should make from land te land
The name of Britain trebly great-
Though every channel of the State
Should almost choke with golden sand –

VOL. I.

Yet waft me from the harbor-mouth,

Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,
And I will see before I die

The palms and temples of the South.

14

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,

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

Within her place she did rejoice,

Self-gathered in her prophet-mind,

But fragments of her mighty voice
Came rolling on the wind.

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

And

part by part to men revealed

The fulness 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!

LOVE thou thy land, with love far brought

From out the storied Past, and used Within the Present, but transfused Through future time by power of thought.

True love turned round on fixed poles,
Love that endures not sordid ends,

For English natures, freemen, friends, Thy brothers and immortal souls.

But pamper not a hasty time,

Nor feed with crude imaginings

The herd, wild hearts and feeble wings, That every sophister can lime.

Deliver not the tasks of might

To weakness, neither hide the ray From those, not blind, who wait for day, Though sitting girt with doubtful light.

Make knowledge circle with the winds;
But let her herald, Reverence, fly
Before her to whatever sky

Bear seed of men and growth of minds.

Watch what main-currents draw the years: Cut Prejudice against the grain:

But gentle words are always gain : Regard the weakness of thy peers:

Nor toil for title, place, or touch
Of pension, neither count on praise:
It grows to guerdon after-days :
Nor deal in watchwords overmuch;

Not clinging to some ancient saw :

Not mastered by some modern term;

Not swift nor slow to change, but firm: And in its season bring the law;

That from Discussion's lip may fall

With Life, that, working strongly, binds— Set in all lights by many minds,

To close the interests of all.