Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/74

 Hither, from the recent Tomb, From the Prison's direr gloom. From Distemper's midnight anguish; And thence, where Poverty doth waste and languish; Or where, his two bright torches blending, Love illumines Manhood's maze; Or where o'er cradled infants bending Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze. Hither, in perplexed dance. Ye Woes! ye young-eyed Joys I advance! By Time's wild harp, and by the hand Whose indefatigable Sweep Raises it's fateful strings from sleep, I bid you haste, a mixt tumultuous band! From every private bower. And each domestic hearth. Haste for one solemn hour; And with a loud and yet a louder voice, O'er Nature struggling in portentous birth. Weep and rejoice! Still echoes the dread Name, that o'er the earth Let slip the storm, and woke the brood of Hell. And now advance in saintly Jubilee Justice and Truth! They too have heard thy spell, They too obey thy name, Divinest Liberty!