XVI. For he too was a friend to me : Both are my friends, and my Bleedeth for both; yet it may be That only silence suiteth best. true breast XVII. Words weaker than your grief would make Grief more. "Twere better I should cease; Although myself could almost take The place of him that sleeps in peace. XVIII. Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace : Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, XIX. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. You ask me, why, though ill at ease, Whose spirits fail within the mist, And languish for the purple seas? It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will; A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent: Where faction seldom gathers head, But by degrees to fullness wrought, The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute Opinion, and induce a time When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute; Though Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great— Though every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand— Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, And I will see before I die The palms and temples of the South. Of old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet : Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet. Within her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Then stept she down thro' town and field To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men reveal'd The fullness of her face Grave mother of majestic works, From her isle-altar gazing down, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks, And, King-like, wears the crown : Her open eyes desire the truth. The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. May perpetual youth That her fair form may stand and shine, Make bright our days and light our dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes ! |