XXIV.
All gone! ’tis ours, the goodly land—
Look round—the heritage behold;
Go forth—upon the mountains stand,
Then, if ye can, be cold.
See living vales by living waters blessed,
Their wealth see earth’s dark caverns yield,
See ocean roll, in glory dressed,
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For all a treasure, and round all a shield:
Hark to the shouts of praise
Rejoicing millions raise;
Gaze on the spires that rise,
To point them to the skies,
Unfearing and unfeared;
Then, if ye can, O then forget
To whom ye owe the sacred debt—
The Pilgrim race revered!
The men who set faith’s burning lights
Upon these everlasting heights,
To guide their children through the years of time;
The men that glorious law who taught,
Unshrinking liberty of thought,
And roused the nations with the truth sublime.