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Of ancient Inspiration serving me,
I promised also,—with undaunted trust
Foretold; and added prayer to prophecy;
The admiration winning of the crowd,
The help desiring of the pure devout.
Scorn and contempt forbid me to proceed!
But History, Time's slavish Scribe, will tell
How rapidly the Zealots of the cause
Disbanded—or in hostile ranks appeared;
Some, tired of honest service; these, outdone,
Disgusted, therefore, or appalled, by aims
Of fiercer Zealots—so Confusion reigned,
And the more faithful were compelled to exclaim,
As Brutus did to Virtue, "Liberty,
"I worshipped Thee, and find thee but a Shade!"
Such recantation had for me no charm,
Nor would I bend to it; who should have grieved
At aught, however fair, which bore the mien
Of a conclusion, or catastrophe.
Why then conceal, that, when the simple good
In timid selfishness withdrew, I sought
