Like Spring, wilt thou roof Earth with bloom and dwell
Thereunder? or, with Scalping Winter's yell,
Scour grove and bush? Choose—how else art thou free?
If Freedom is the gift of the all-wise,
It is because he will not have a slave
To serve Him. Which wilt thou be, base or brave?
With Morn, climb, or, with Night, skulk down the skies
To grope in caverns, or beneath the wave,
Creep, till aghast at monsters that arise?