[THE MASQUERADE OF FREEDOM.]
I.
When Freedom first appeared beneath,
Right simple was the garb she wore:
Her brows were circled with a wreath
Such as the Grecian victors bore:
Her vesture all of spotless white,
Her aspect stately and serene;
And so she moved in all men's sight
As lovely as a Maiden Queen.
II.
And queenlike, long she ruled the throng,
As ancient records truly tell;
Their strength she took not from the strong,
But taught them how to use it well.
Her presence graced the peasant's floor
As freely as the noble's hall:
And aye the humbler was the door,
The still more welcome was her call.
III.
But simple manners rarely range
Beyond the simpler ages' ken:
And e'en the Virtues sometimes change
Their vesture and their looks, like men.
Pride, noble once, grows close and vain,
And Honour stoops to vulgar things,
And old Obedience slacks the rein,
And murmurs at the rule of kings.
IV.
So Freedom, like her sisters too,
Has felt the impulse of the time,
Has changed her garments' blameless hue,
And donn'd the colours dear to crime
First in a Phrygian cap she stalked,
And bore within her grasp the spear;
And ever, when abroad she walk'd,
Men knew Revenge was following near.
V.
She moves again—The death-drums roll,
The frantic mobs their chorus raise,
The thunder of the Carmagnole—
The war-chant of the Marseillaise'
Red run the streets with blameless blood—
The guillotine comes clanking down—
And Freedom, in her drunken mood,
Can witness all without a frown.
VI.
Times change again: and Freedom now,
Though scarcely yet less wild and frantic,
Appears, before men's eyes below,
In guises more intensely antic.
No single kind of garb she wears,
As o'er the earth she goes crusading;
But shifts her habit and her airs
Like Joe Grimaldi masquerading.
VII.
Through Paris you may see her tread,
The cynosure of all beholders;
A bonnet rouge upon her head,
A ragged blouse upon her shoulders.
More decent now than once she was,
Though equally opposed to riches,
She still upholds the good old cause,
Yet condescends to wear the breeches.
VIII.
The Huns behold her as of yore,
With grisly beard and monstrous swagger;
The swart Italian bows before
The Goddess with the mask and dagger.
The German, as his patriot thirst
With beer Bavarian he assuages,
Surveys her image, as at first
'Twas pictured in the Middle Ages.