MILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; O, raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power! Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned And tongues that uttered wisdom, — better none : The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,
Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend. These moralists could act and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
In splendor: what strength was, that would not bend
But in magnanimous meekness. France, 't is strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men!
It is not to be thought of, that the Flood Of British freedom, which to the open sea Of the world's praise from dark antiquity Hath flowed," with pomp of waters, unwithstood," Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armory of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold Which Milton held.—In everything we are sprung Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.
WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for legers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country!-am I to be blamed?
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; And I by my affection was beguiled:
What wonder if a Poet now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,
Felt for thee as a lover or a child!
ONE might believe that natural miseries Had blasted France, and made of it a land Unfit for men; and that in one great band Her sons were bursting forth, to dwell at ease. But 't is a chosen soil, where sun and breeze Shed gentle favors: rural works are there, And ordinary business without care; Spot rich in all things that can soothe and please! How piteous then that there should be such dearth Of knowledge; that whole myriads should unite To work against themselves such fell despite,- Should come in frenzy and in drunken mirth, Impatient to put out the only light
Of Liberty that yet remains on earth!
THERE is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear,
Than his who breathes, by roof, and floor, and wall, Pent in, a Tyrant's solitary Thrall:
"T is his who walks about in the open air, One of a Nation who, henceforth, must wear Their fetters in their souls. For who could be, Who, even the best, in such condition, free From self-reproach, reproach that he must share With Human-nature? Never be it ours To see the sun how brightly it will shine, And know that noble feelings, manly powers, Instead of gathering strength, must droop and pine; And earth with all her pleasant fruits and flowers Fade, and participate in man's decline.
THESE times strike moneyed worldlings with dis
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air With words of apprehension and despair: While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray, Men unto whom sufficient for the day And minds not stinted or untilled are given, Sound, healthy children of the God of heaven,
And cheerful as the rising sun in May. What do we gather hence but firmer faith That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath; That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital, - and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?
ENGLAND! the time is come when thou shouldst
Thy heart from its emasculating food;
The truth should now be better understood;
Old things have been unsettled; we have seen Fair seed-time, better harvest might have been But for thy trespasses; and, at this day, If for Greece, Egypt, India, Africa,
Aught good were destined, thou wouldst step be
England! all nations in this charge agree:
But worse, more ignorant in love and hate, Far, far more abject, is thine Enemy: Therefore the wise pray for thee, though the freight Of thy offences be a heavy weight:
O grief, that Earth's best hopes rest all with thee!
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