13. 
It shall be thus no more! too long, too long, 775
Sons of the glorious dead, have ye lain bound
In darkness and in ruin!—­Hope is strong,
Justice and Truth their winged child have found—­
Awake! arise! until the mighty sound
Of your career shall scatter in its gust 780
The thrones of the oppressor, and the ground
Hide the last altar’s unregarded dust,
Whose Idol has so long betrayed your impious trust!

14. 
It must be so—­I will arise and waken
The multitude, and like a sulphurous hill, 785
Which on a sudden from its snows has shaken
The swoon of ages, it shall burst and fill
The world with cleansing fire; it must, it will—­
It may not be restrained!—­and who shall stand
Amid the rocking earthquake steadfast still, 790
But Laon? on high Freedom’s desert land
A tower whose marble walls the leagued storms withstand!

15. 
One summer night, in commune with the hope
Thus deeply fed, amid those ruins gray
I watched, beneath the dark sky’s starry cope; 795
And ever from that hour upon me lay
The burden of this hope, and night or day,
In vision or in dream, clove to my breast: 
Among mankind, or when gone far away
To the lone shores and mountains, ’twas a guest 800
Which followed where I fled, and watched when I did rest.

16. 
These hopes found words through which my spirit sought
To weave a bondage of such sympathy,
As might create some response to the thought
Which ruled me now—­and as the vapours lie 805
Bright in the outspread morning’s radiancy,
So were these thoughts invested with the light
Of language:  and all bosoms made reply
On which its lustre streamed, whene’er it might
Through darkness wide and deep those tranced spirits smite. 810

17. 
Yes, many an eye with dizzy tears was dim,
And oft I thought to clasp my own heart’s brother,
When I could feel the listener’s senses swim,
And hear his breath its own swift gaspings smother
Even as my words evoked them—­and another, 815
And yet another, I did fondly deem,
Felt that we all were sons of one great mother;
And the cold truth such sad reverse did seem
As to awake in grief from some delightful dream.

18. 
Yes, oft beside the ruined labyrinth 820
Which skirts the hoary caves of the green deep,
Did Laon and his friend, on one gray plinth,
Round whose worn base the wild waves hiss and leap,
Resting at eve, a lofty converse keep: 
And that this friend was false, may now be said 825
Calmly—­that he like other men could weep
Tears which are lies, and could betray and spread
Snares for that guileless heart which for his own had bled.