With hospitable smile and torch kept clear

For all wild hordes that sought her o’er the tide.

’Twas centuries ago. But this is true:

Late the fond tyrant who misrules our land,

Bidding his serfs dig deep in marshes old,

Trembled, not knowing wherefore, as they drew

From out this swampy bed of ancient mould

A shattered torch held in a mighty hand.

By Francis Bacon

(English philosopher and statesman, father of modern scientific thought; 1561-1626)