Who never bent the servile knee at altar or at throne.
No fond illusions dull'd his eye, no tales of wither'd eld;
No childish faith was his to trust aught save what he beheld;
No sovereignty would he allow save Reason's rightful reign;
No laws save those of Nature's code—and such was THOMAS PAINE.
Place him within your Gothic arch, the only fit compeer
Of those whose martyr monument the Council seek to rear;
Since traitors to the laws of man may boldly look abroad,
Towards the image of their friend who broke the laws of God.
Since anarchy must have its meed, let's leave no statue here,