Come out, then, from the old thoughts and old ways, Before you harden to a crystal cold Which the new life can shatter, but not mould; Freedom for you still waits, still, looking backward, stays, But widens still the irretrievable space. LONGING. Of all the myriad moods of mind The thing we long for, that we are Still, through our paltry stir and strife, Perhaps the longing to be so Helps make the soul immortal. Longing is God's fresh heavenward will But, would we learn that heart's full scope Our lives must climb from hope to hope Ah! let us hope that to our praise The moments when we tread his ways, But when the spirit beckons,— That some slight good is also wrought Beyond self-satisfaction, When we are simply good in thought, Howe'er we fail in action. ODE TO FRANCE. FEBRUARY, 1848. I. As, flake by flake, the beetling avalanches Build up their imminent crags of noiseless snow, Till some chance thrill the loosened ruin launches No strength in suffering;-but the Past was strong: The brute despair of trampled centuries Leaped up with one hoarse yell and snapped its bands, Groped for its right with horny, callous hands, Set wrong to balance wrong, II. They did as they were taught; not theirs the blame, If men who scattered firebrands reaped the flame : They trampled Peace beneath their savage feet, And by her golden tresses drew Mercy along the pavement of the street. O, Freedom! Freedom! is thy morning-dew So gory red? Alas, thy light had ne'er Shone in upon the chaos of their lair! They reared to thee such symbol as they knew, And worshipped it with flame and blood, A Vengeance, axe in hand, that stood Holding a tyrant's head up by the clotted hair. Their grinding centuries,-what Muse had those? Though hall and palace had nor eyes nor ears, Hardening a people's heart to senseless stone, Thou knowest them, O Earth, that drank their tears, O Heaven, that heard their inarticulate moan! They noted down their fetters, link by link; Coarse was the hand that scrawled, and red the ink; Rude was their score, as suits unlettered men, Notched with a headsman's axe upon a block: |