Chapter 9 No.9

Freedom all winged expands,

Nor perches in a narrow place,

Her broad van seeks unplanted lands,

She loves a poor and virtuous race.

Clinging to the colder zone

Whose dark sky sheds the snow-flake down,

The snow-flake is her banner's star,

Her stripes the boreal streamers are.

Long she loved the Northman well;

Now the iron age is done,

She will not refuse to dwell

With the offspring of the Sun

Foundling of the desert far,

Where palms plume and siroccos blaze,

He roves unhurt the burning ways

In climates of the summer star.

He has avenues to God

Hid from men of northern brain,

Far beholding, without cloud,

What these with slowest steps attain.

If once the generous chief arrive

To lead him willing to be led,

For freedom he will strike and strive,

And drain his heart till he be dead.