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THE SOLILOQUY OF LIBERTY.
While the rain of thy wound did cover the ground, Of lucid dew, in the stead: Prove true, I said.
To the holy truth of God, Prove true, I said: Though struck by his chastening rod, Or tried in the furnace dread,Or chained, death-cold, to the rocks of old, Where vulture flocks were fed,— Prove true, I said.
O people of my love, Be free, I said: Till all the fires above From the altars of heaven are fled;Till its halls of light have sevenfold might, And the spheres are dumb with dread,— Be free, I said.
On Afric's golden strand, (Be free, I said:) The wild wind gave command, And the ships before it fled,—Till the Southern wine of this people of mine With Afric's blood was red: Be free, I said.
