Than on the dome of kings? Is mother

earth

209

A step-dame to her numerous sons who earn
Her unshared gifts with unremitting toil;
A mother only to those puling babes
Who, nursed in ease and luxury, make men
The playthings of their babyhood and mar
In self-important childishness that peace
Which men alone appreciate?

'Spirit of Nature, no!

The pure diffusion of thy essence throbs
Alike in every human heart.

Thou aye erectest there

Thy throne of power unappealable;
Thou art the judge beneath whose nod
Man's brief and frail authority

Is powerless as the wind
That passeth idly by;

Thine the tribunal which surpasseth
The show of human justice
As God surpasses man!

'Spirit of Nature! thou

226

Life of interminable multitudes;
Soul of those mighty spheres
Whose changeless paths through Heaven's
deep silence lie;

Soul of that smallest being,

The dwelling of whose life Is one faint April sun-gleam;

Man, like these passive things, Thy will unconsciously fulfilleth; Like theirs, his age of endless peace, Which time is fast maturing, Will swiftly, surely, come;

230

And the unbounded frame which thou per

vadest,

'Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds Of high resolve; on fancy's boldest wing To soar unwearied, fearlessly to turn The keenest pangs to peacefulness, and taste

The joys which mingled sense and spirit yield;

Or he is formed for abjectness and woe,
To grovel on the dunghill of his fears, 160
To shrink at every sound, to quench the
flame

Of natural love in sensualism, to know That hour as blest when on his worthless days

The frozen hand of death shall set its seal, Yet fear the cure, though hating the disease. The one is man that shall hereafter be; The other, man as vice has made him now.

The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade, And to those royal murderers whose mean thrones

170 Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore, The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean.

Guards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround

Their palaces, participate the crimes
That force defends and from a nation's rage
Secures the crown, which all the curses
reach

That famine, frenzy, woe and penury breathe.

These are the hired bravos who defend
The tyrant's throne-the bullies of his fear;
These are the sinks and channels of worst
vice,

The refuse of society, the dregs

180

Of all that is most vile; their cold hearts blend

Deceit with sternness, ignorance with pride, All that is mean and villainous with rage

Which hopelessness of good and self-con

tempt

Alone might kindle; they are decked in wealth,

Honor and power, then are sent abroad To do their work. The pestilence that stalks

In gloomy triumph through some eastern land 189

Is less destroying. They cajole with gold
And promises of fame the thoughtless youth
Already crushed with servitude; he knows
His wretchedness too late, and cherishes
Repentance for his ruin, when his doom
Is sealed in gold and blood!

Those too the tyrant serve, who, skilled to

snare

The feet of justice in the toils of law, Stand ready to oppress the weaker still, And right or wrong will vindicate for gold, Sneering at public virtue, which beneath Their pitiless tread lies torn and trampled where

Honor sits smiling at the sale of truth

201