Than the liegeless Arab on his mare,—
Freer than the bearers of the sceptre,—
Freer than the winged lords of the air.
“Thrice-imprisoned,” thou hast sung of freedom
As but a few of all her heroes can;
Thou hast undermined the triple prison
Of the mind and heart and soul of man.
In thy fountained peristyles of Reason
Glows the light and flame of desert noons;
And in the cloister of thy pensive Fancy