Where faction seldom gathers head, But by degrees to fullness wrought, The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute Opinion, and induce a time When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute; Though Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great— Though every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, And I will see before I die The palms and temples of the South. Or old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: Within her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Then stept she down thro' town and field To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men reveal'd The fullness of her face Grave mother of majestic works, From her isle-altar gazing down, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks, Her open eyes desire the truth. The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. May perpetual youth That her fair form may stand and shine, Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes! Love thou thy land, with love far-brought From out the storied Past, and used Within the Present, but transfused Thro' future time by power of thought. True love turn'd round on fixed poles, Love, that endures not sordid ends, For English natures, freemen, friends, Thy brothers and immortal souls. But pamper not a hasty time, Nor feed with crude imaginings The herd, wild hearts and feeble wings, That every sophister can lime. Deliver not the tasks of might To weakness, neither hide the ray From those, not blind, who wait for day, Though sitting girt with doubtful light. Make knowledge circle with the winds; Bear seed of men and growth of minds. Watch what main-currents draw the years: Cut Prejudice against the grain: But gentle words are always gain : Regard the weakness of thy peers: Nor toil for title, place, or touch Of pension, neither count on praise : Nor deal in watchwords overmuch; |