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I YE clouds! that far above me float and pause, | |
| Whose pathless march no mortal can controul! | |
| Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe’er ye roll, | |
| Yield homage only to eternal laws! | |
| Ye Woods! that listen to the night-bird’s singing, | 5 |
| Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, | |
| Save when your own imperious branches swinging, | |
| Have made a solemn music of the wind! | |
| Where, like a man beloved of God, | |
| Through glooms, which never woodman trod, | 10 |
| How oft, pursuing fancies holy, | |
| My moonlight way o’er flowering weeds I wound, | |
| Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, | |
| By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound! | |
| O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high! | 15 |
| And O ye Clouds that far above me soared! | |
| Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky! | |
| Yea, everything that is and will be free! | |
| Bear witness for me, wheresoe’er ye be, | |
| With what deep worship I have still adored | 20 |
| The spirit of divinest Liberty. | |
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II When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared, | |
| And with that oath which smote air, earth and sea, | |
| Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free, | |
| Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared! | 25 |
| With what a joy my lofty gratulation | |
| Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band: | |
| And when to whelm the disenchanted nation, | |
| Like fiends embattled by a wizard’s wand, | |
| The Monarchs marched in evil day, | 30 |
| And Britain join’d the dire array; | |
| Though dear her shores and circling ocean, | |
| Though many friendships, many youthful loves | |
| Had swoln the patriot emotion | |
| And flung a magic light o’er all her hills and groves; | 35 |
| Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat | |
| To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance, | |
| And shame too long delay’d and vain retreat! | |
| For ne’er, O Liberty! with partial aim | |
| I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame; | 40 |
| But blessed the pæans of delivered France, | |
| And hung my head and wept at Britain’s name. | |
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III ‘And what,’ I said, ‘though Blasphemy’s loud scream | |
| With that sweet music of deliverance strove! | |
| Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove | 45 |
| A dance more wild than e’er was maniac’s dream! | |
| Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, | |
| The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!’ | |
| And when to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled, | |
| The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; | 50 |
| When France her front deep-scarr’d and gory | |
| Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory; | |
| When, insupportably advancing, | |
| Her arm made mockery of the warrior’s ramp; | |
| While, timid looks of fury glancing, | 55 |
| Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp, | |
| Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore; | |
| Then I reproached my fears that would not flee; | |
| ‘And soon,’ I said, ‘shall Wisdom teach her lore | |
| In the low huts of them that toil and groan; | 60 |
| And, conquering by her happiness alone, | |
| Shall France compel the nations to be free, | |
| Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own.’ | |
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IV Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams! | |
| I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament, | 65 |
| From bleak Helvetia’s icy caverns sent— | |
| I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams! | |
| Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished, | |
| And ye, that fleeing, spot your mountain snows | |
| With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished | 70 |
| One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes! | |
| To scatter rage and traitorous guilt | |
| Where Peace her jealous home had built; | |
| A patriot-race to disinherit | |
| Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear; | 75 |
| And with inexpiable spirit | |
| To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer— | |
| O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind, | |
| And patriot only in pernicious toils! | |
| Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind? | 80 |
| To mix with kings in the low lust of sway, | |
| Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey; | |
| To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils | |
| From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray? | |
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V The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, | 85 |
| Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game | |
| They burst their manacles and wear the name | |
| Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain! | |
| O Liberty! with profitless endeavour | |
| Have I pursued thee many a weary hour; | 90 |
| But thou nor swell’st the victor’s strain nor ever | |
| Didst breath thy soul in forms of human power. | |
| Alike from all, howe’er they praise thee, | |
| (Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee) | |
| Alike from Priestcraft’s harpy minions, | 95 |
| And factious Blasphemy’s obscener slaves, | |
| Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions, | |
| The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves! | |
| And there I felt thee!—on that sea-cliff’s verge, | |
| Whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above, | 100 |
| Had made one murmur with the distant surge! | |
| Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, | |
| And shot my being through earth, sea and air, | |
| Possessing all things with intensest love, | |
| O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there. | 105 |
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