Nor music’s strain, nor garnished feast is there,
But all is sentineled by anxious care.
For they who rest within, in act and word,
Are leagued in hostile guise against their lord;
And much they dare who aid with kindly hand
The attainted members of that patriot band:
Men who had cast with daring hands aside
The cankering chains of feudal pomp and pride,
And roused by wrongs, long suffered, long forgiven,
Will now be free, if not on earth—in heaven.