XIX.
All still,—youth, courage, strength!—a winter laid,
A chain of palsy cast, on might and mind!
Still, as at noon a southern forest’s shade,
They stood, those breathless masses of mankind,
Still, as a frozen torrent! But the wave
Soon leaps to foaming freedom; they, the brave,
Endured—they saw the martyr’s place assign’d
In the red flames—whence is the withering spell
That numbs each human pulse? They saw, and thought it well.