XXVI.
Take then my prayer, Ye dwellers of this spot—
Be yours a noiseless and a guiltless lot.
I plead not that ye bask
In the rank beams of vulgar fame;
To light your steps I ask
A purer and a holier flame.
No bloated growth I supplicate for you,
No pining multitude, no pampered few;
’Tis not alone to coffer gold,
Nor spreading borders to behold;
’Tis not fast-swelling crowds to win,
The refuse-ranks of want and sin—
This be the kind decree:
Be ye by goodness crowned,
Revered, though not renowned;
Poor, if Heaven will, but Free!
Free from the tyrants of the hour,
The clans of wealth, the clans of power,
The coarse, cold scorners of their God;
[p20]
Free from the taint of sin,
The leprosy that feeds within,
And free, in mercy, from the bigot’s rod.