XXIV.
Forbid it, Spirit of the glorious Past,
Which gained our Isle the surname of 'The Free,'
And made our shores a refuge at the last
To all who would not bend the servile knee,
The vainly-vanquished sons of Liberty!
Here came the injured, the opprest,
Compelled from the Oppressor's face to flee—
And found a home of shelter and of rest
In the warm, generous heart that beat in England's breast.
XXV.
Here came the Slave, who straightway burst his chain,
And knew that none could ever bind him more;
Here came the melancholy sons of Spain;
And here, more buoyant, Gaul's illustrious poor
Waited the same bright day that shone before.
Here rests the Enthusiast Pole! and views afar
With dreaming hope, from this protecting shore,
The trembling rays of Liberty's pale star
Shine forth in vain to light the too-unequal war!
XXVI.
And shall Reproach cling darkly to the name
Which every memory so much endears?
Shall we, too, tyrannise,—and tardy Fame
Revoke the glory of our former years,
And stain Britannia's flag with children's tears?
So shall the mercy of the English throne
Become a by-word in the Nations' ears,
As one who pitying heard the stranger's groan,
But to these nearer woes was cold and deaf as stone.
