Half turns her face, half smiles through | Leads all his shivering lambs to one sure golden hair, Forever yielding, never wholly won: That is not love which pauses in the race Two close-linked names on fleeting sand to trace; Freedom gained yesterday is no more fold Intent on manna still and mortal ends, | Heaps its small pitcher to the ear, Sees it not, neither hears its thundered And gently waits the miller's will. lore. When the roused popular ocean foamed France is too poor to pay alone and chafed, O poem unsurpassed! it ran The service of that ample spirit; Paltry seem low dictatorship and throne, Weighed with thy self-renouncing merit; They had to thee been rust and loss; Thy aim was higher,- thou hast climbed a Cross! paws: And if the second Charles brought in decay Of ancient virtue, if it well might wring Souls that had broadened 'neath a nobler day, To see a losel, marketable king Fearfully watering with his realm's best blood Cromwell's quenched bolts, that erst kad cracked and flamed, Scaring, through all their depths of courtier mud, Europe's crowned bloodsuckers, Ought we to be, who see Corruption's flood Still rise o'er last year's mark, to mine away Our brazen idol's feet of treacherous clay! O utter degradation! Freedom turned Slavery's vile bawd, to cozen and be tray To the old lecher's clutch a maiden prey, All round the world, unlocking man to If so a loathsome pander's fee be man. earned ! And we are silent,- - we who daily, O for a whiff of Naseby, that would tread What need of help? He knew how types were set, He had a dauntless spirit, and a press. Such earnest natures are the fiery pith, The compact nucleus, round which systems grow; Mass after mass becomes inspired therewith, And whirls impregnate with the central glow. O Truth! O Freedom! how are ye still born In the rude stable, in the manger nurst! What humble hands unbar those gates of morn Through which the splendors of the |