Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/84


 * "Shall France compel the nations to be free.

Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own."

Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
 * I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
 * From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent—

I hear thy groans upon her blood-stain'd streams!
 * Heroes, that for your peaceful country perish'd,

And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
 * With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherish'd

One thought that ever bless'd your cruel foes!
 * To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
 * Where Peace her jealous home had built;
 * A patriot-race to disinherit

Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
 * And with inexpiable spirit

To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer— O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
 * And patriot only in pernicious toils!

Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind;
 * To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
 * Yell in the hunt, and share the murd'rous prey;

To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
 * From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?