Feeling his soul spring up divinely tall, Touched but in passing by her mantle-hem.

Come back, then, noble pride, for 'tis her dower!

How could poet ever tower,
If his passions, hopes, and fears,
If his triumphs and his tears,
Kept not measure with his peo-
ple?

Boom, cannon, boom to all the winds and waves!

Clash out, glad bells, from every rocking steeple!

Banners, adance with triumph, bend your staves!

And from every mountain-peak Let beacon-fire to answering beacon speak,

Katahdin tell Monadnock, Whiteface he,

And so leap on in light from sea

to sea,

Till the glad news be sent
Across a kindling continent,

Making earth feel more firm and air breathe braver:—

"Be proud! for she is saved, and all have helped to save her! She that lifts up the manhood

of the poor,

She of the open soul and open door,

With room about her hearth for all mankind!

The fire is dreadful in her eyes

no more;

From her bold front the helm she doth unbind,

Send all her handmaid armies back to spin,

And bid her navies that so lately hurled

Their crashing battle, hold their thunders in, Swimming like birds of calm along the unharmful shore. No challenge sends she to the elder world,

That looked askance and hated; a light scorn

Plays on her mouth, as round her mighty knees

She calls her children back, and waits the morn

Of nobler day, enthroned between her subject seas."