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XXIV.
The spirit of that day is still awake,
And spreads himself, and shall not sleep again;
But through the idle mesh of power shall break,
Like billows o’er the Asian monarch’s chain;
Till men are fill’d with him, and feel how vain,
Instead of the pure heart and innocent hands,
Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain
The smile of heaven;—till a new age expands
Its white and holy wings above the peaceful lands.
XXV.
For look again on the past years;—behold,
Flown, like the night-mare’s fearful dreams, away
Full many a horrible worship, that, of old,
Subdued the shuddering reals to its dark sway;
And crimes that fear’d not once the eye of day,
Rooted from men, without a name or place;
And nations blotted out from earth, to pay
The forfeit of deep guilt;—with glad embrace
The fair disburden’d lands welcome a nobler race.
