In my grave shall that chain
Rest beside me too.
XVI
Oft here and there freedom is an empty name,
And liberty a hollow, idle sound;
Yet day by day ’mongst us feels this watchword same
Each heart with stormy throb anew rebound;
Where’er one’s gaze doth fall, ’tis writ in fire there,
And round about eternally it peals;
Each morn we breathe a sigh for this our first care,