THE BROKEN CHAIN.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Lift not the festal mask!
Scott.
I am free! I have burst through my heavy chain,
The life of young eagles is mine again!
I may cleave with my bark the glad sounding sea,
I may rove where the wind roves—my path is free!
The streams dash in joy down the tameless hill,
The birds pierce the depths of the skies at will;
The arrow goes forth with the singing breeze—
And is not my spirit as one of these?
Oh! the glad earth, with its wealth of flowers,
And the voices that ring through its forest-bowers,
And the laughing glance of the founts that shine,
Lighting its valleys!—all, all are mine!
I may urge through the desert my foaming steed,
The wings of the morning shall lend him speed!
I may meet the storm in its rushing glee,
Its blasts and its lightnings are not more free!
Captive! and hast thou then riven thy chain?
Art thou free in the wilderness, free on the main?
Yes! these thy spirit may proudly soar,
But must thou not mingle with crowds once more?
