POSTHUMOUS POEMS
But the dead years renew their old delight.
The worshipped evil wanes
Through all its godless fanes,
And falters from its long imperial height,
As the last altar-flame
Dies with a glorious nation's dying shame.
The worshipped evil wanes
Through all its godless fanes,
And falters from its long imperial height,
As the last altar-flame
Dies with a glorious nation's dying shame.
XV
And when that final triumph-time shall be,
Whose memory shall be kept
First of the souls that slept
In death ere light was on their Italy?
Or which of men more dear than thee
To equal-thoughted liberty,
Whom here on earth such reverence meets.
Such love from Heaven's pure children greets
As few dare win among the free!
Such honour ever follows thee
In peril, banishment, and blame,
And all the loud blind world calls shame,
Lives, and shall live, thy glorious name,
Tho' death, that scorns the robèd slave,
Embrace thee, and a chainless grave.
While thou livest, there is one
Free in soul beneath the sun:
And thine out-laboured heart shall be
In death more honoured—not more free.
And when that final triumph-time shall be,
Whose memory shall be kept
First of the souls that slept
In death ere light was on their Italy?
Or which of men more dear than thee
To equal-thoughted liberty,
Whom here on earth such reverence meets.
Such love from Heaven's pure children greets
As few dare win among the free!
Such honour ever follows thee
In peril, banishment, and blame,
And all the loud blind world calls shame,
Lives, and shall live, thy glorious name,
Tho' death, that scorns the robèd slave,
Embrace thee, and a chainless grave.
While thou livest, there is one
Free in soul beneath the sun:
And thine out-laboured heart shall be
In death more honoured—not more free.
180
