Page:Poems (IA poemslowell00lowe).pdf/90

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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
The past and future, giving the soul roomTo search into itself,—and long communeWith this eternal silence;—more a god,In my long-suffering and strength to meetWith equal front the direst shafts of fate,Than thou in thy faint-hearted despotism,Girt with thy baby-toys of force and wrath.Yes, I am that Prometheus who brought downThe light to man, which thou, in selfish fear,Hadst to thyself usurped,—his by sole right,For Man hath right to all save Tyranny,—And which shall free him yet from thy frail throne.Tyrants are but the spawn of Ignorance,Begotten by the slaves they trample on,Who, could they win a glimmer of the light,And see that Tyranny is always weakness,Or Fear with its own bosom ill at ease,Would laugh away in scorn the sand-wove chainWhich their own blindness feigned for adamant.Wrong ever builds on quicksands, but the RightTo the firm centre lays its moveless base.The tyrant trembles, if the air but stirs
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