Then, with eager inhalations opening all my mantle wide,
Felt my spirit rise exultant with the rising of the tide;
Felt the joyous morning breezes run afresh through every vein,
Till the natural pulse of manhood beat the call-to-arms again.
Then came utterance self-condemning,—oh, how wild with sudden scorn
Of the chain that held me circling in a little round forlorn!
Of the sloth which, like a vapor, hugs the dull, insensate heart,
That can act in meek submission to the lowness of its part,—
In the broad terrestrial drama play the herald or the clown,
While the warrior wins his garlands and the monarch wears his crown!