mournful cry! [179]
 —­Yet, hast thou found that Freedom spreads her power 620
  Beyond the cottage-hearth, the cottage-door: 
  All nature smiles, and owns beneath her eyes
  Her fields peculiar, and peculiar skies. 
  Yes, as I roamed where Loiret’s waters glide
  Through rustling aspens heard from side to side, 625
  When from October clouds a milder light
  Fell where the blue flood rippled into white;
  Methought from every cot the watchful bird
  Crowed with ear-piercing power till then unheard;
  Each clacking mill, that broke the murmuring streams, 630
  Rocked the charmed thought in more delightful dreams;
  Chasing those pleasant dreams, [180] the falling leaf
  Awoke a fainter sense [181] of moral grief;
  The measured echo of the distant flail
  Wound in more welcome cadence down the vale; 635
  With more majestic course the water rolled,
  And ripening foliage shone with richer gold. [182]
 —­But foes are gathering—­Liberty must raise
  Red on the hills her beacon’s far-seen blaze;
  Must bid the tocsin ring from tower to tower!—­ 640
  Nearer and nearer comes the trying hour! [183]
  Rejoice, brave Land, though pride’s perverted ire
  Rouse hell’s own aid, and wrap thy fields in fire: 
  Lo, from the flames a great and glorious birth;
  As if a new-made heaven were hailing a new earth! [184] 645
 —­All cannot be:  the promise is too fair
  For creatures doomed to breathe terrestrial air: 
  Yet not for this will sober reason frown
  Upon that promise, not the hope disown;
  She knows that only from high aims ensue 650
  Rich guerdons, and to them alone are due. [185]

    Great God! by whom the strifes of men are weighed
  In an impartial balance, give thine aid
  To the just cause; and, oh! do thou preside
  Over the mighty stream now spreading wide:  [Hh] 655
  So shall its waters, from the heavens supplied
  In copious showers, from earth by wholesome springs,
  Brood o’er the long-parched lands with Nile-like wings! 
  And grant that every sceptred child of clay
  Who cries presumptuous, “Here the flood shall stay,” [186] 660
  May in its progress see thy guiding hand,
  And cease the acknowledged purpose to withstand; [187]
  Or, swept in anger from the insulted shore,
  Sink with his servile bands, to rise no more! [188]

    To-night, my Friend, within this humble cot 665
  Be scorn and fear and hope alike forgot [189]
  In timely sleep; and when, at break of day,
  On the tall peaks the glistening sunbeams play, [190]
  With a light heart our course we may renew,
  The first whose footsteps print the mountain dew. [191] 670

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT