THE TORCH OF LIBERTY
BY THOMAS MOORE
I saw it all in Fancy’s glass—
Herself, the fair, the wild magician,
Who bade this splendid day-dream pass,
And named each gilded apparition.
’Twas like a torch-race,—such as they
Of Greece performed, in ages gone,
When the fleet youths, in long array,
Passed the bright torch triumphant on.
I saw the expectant nations stand
To catch the coming flame in turn;
I saw, from ready hand to hand,
The clear, though struggling, glory burn.
And oh, their joy, as it came near,
’Twas, in itself, a joy to see;
While Fancy whispered in my ear,
“That torch they pass is Liberty!”
And each, as she received the flame,
Lighted her altar with its ray;
Then, smiling, to the next who came,
Speeded it on its sparkling way.
From Albion first, whose ancient shrine
Was furnished with the flame already,
Columbia caught the boon divine,
And lit a flame, like Albion’s, steady.
Shine, shine forever, glorious flame,
Divinest gift of gods to men!
From Greece thy earliest splendor came,
To Greece thy ray returns again.
Take, Freedom, take thy radiant round;
When dimmed, revive; when lost, return;
Till not a shrine through earth be found
On which thy glories shall not burn!