Classic Poem

II.—TO SILVIO PELLICO, ON READING HIS “PRIGIONE.”

There are who climb the mountain's heathery side,
Or, in life's vernal strength triumphant, urge
The bark's fleet rushing through the crested surge,
Or spur the courser's fiery race of pride
Over the green savannas, gleaming wide
By some vast lake; yet thus, on foaming sea,
Or chainless wild, reign far less nobly free,
Than thou, in that lone dungeon, glorified
By thy brave suffering.—Thou from its dark cell
Fierce thought and baleful passion didst exclude,
Filling the dedicated solitude
With God; and where His Spirit deigns to dwell,
Though the worn frame in fetters withering lie,
There throned in peace divine is liberty!