Ilad fix'd him with the Cæsars in his fate, On whom we tread : For this the conqueror rears And blood of earth flow on, as they have flowed, Without an ark for wretched man's abode, And ebbs but to reflow !-Renew thy RAINBOW, GOD! What from this barren being do we reap? Our senses narrow, and our reason frail, 45 Mantles the earth with darkness, until right And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale Lest their own judgments should become too bright, And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light. XCIV. And thus they plod in sluggish misery, Rotting from sire to son, and age to age, To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage Bleed gladiator-like, and still engage Within the same arena where they see Their fellows fall before, like leaves of the same tree. XCV. I speak not of men's creeds-they rest between The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown And shook them from their slumbers on the throne; Too glorious, were this all his mighty arm had done. XCVI. Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be, Sprung forth a Pallas, armed and undefiled? On infant Washington? Has Earth no more Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore? XCVII. But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime And fatal have her Saturnalia been TO FREEDOM'S CAUSE, in every age and clime; And the base pageant last upon the scene Are grown the pretext for the eternal thrall Which nips life's tree, and dooms man's worst-his second fall, XCV III. Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind; Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind, So shall a better spring, less bitter fruit being forth, There is a stern round tower of other days, 48 Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, The green leaves over all by time o'erthrown; What was this tower of strength? within its cave What treasure lay so lock'd; so hid ?—A woman's graye. But who was, she the lady of the dead, Tombed in a palace? Was she chaste and fair? What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear? What daughter of her beauties was the heir ? Where meaner relics must not dare to rot, Placed to commemorate a more than mortal lot ? CI. Was she as those who love their lords, or they To the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar Love from amongst her griefs?-for such the affections are. CII. Perchance she died in youth: it may be, bowed In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom A sunset charm around her, and illume With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, Of her consuming cheek, the autumnal leaf-like red, CIII. Perchance she died in age-surviving all, The wealthiest Roman's wife; Behold his love or pride. I know not why-but standing thus by thee It seems as if I had thine inmate known, Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan Of dying thunder on the distant wind; Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone Till I had bodied forth the heated mind i Forms from the floating wreck, which Ruin leaves behind; CV. And from the planks, far shattered o'er the rocks, Built me a little bark of hope, once more To battle with the ocean and the shocks Of the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar Which rushes on the solitary shore |