Such are the tenants of the mountain-hold,
The high in heart, unconquer’d, uncontroll’d:
By day, the huntsmen of the wild—by night,
Unwearied guardians of the watch-fire’s light,
They from their bleak majestic home have caught
A sterner tone of unsubmitting thought,
While all around them bids the soul arise
To blend with nature’s dread sublimities.
—But these are lofty dreams, and must not be
Where tyranny is near:—the bended knee,