XIV.
A thousand times, O Freedom! have I turned
To thy rapt face, and wished that martyr-wise
I might achieve some glory, such as burned
Within the depths of Gordon's azure eyes.
Ah God! how sweet it were to give thee life,
To aid thy cause, self-sinking in the strife,
Loving thee best, O Freedom! and in tears
Giving thee thanks for death-accepted years.
XV.