’Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things!
And must the hope, as vain as it is bright,
Be all giv’n up?—and are they only right,
Who say this world of thinking souls was made
To be by Kings partition’d, truck’d, and weigh’d
In scales that, ever since the world begun,
Have counted millions but as dust to one?
Are they the only wise, who laugh to scorn
The rights, the freedom to which man was born;
Who * * * * *