And backwards flew to my devils and type,
Like a bear cub that loveth its mother’s gripe;
And kinder and kinder it is to me,
For the Press was born to be useful and free!
The world was changed, and the Pope looked round,
When the hydra head of the Press was unbound,
And the eyes of oppression and hatred rolled,
And tyrants offered their bags of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild,
As strove to smother the free-born child.