Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“ The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and jest of all,
Expired, and thousands perished in the fall! [Pg 31]
There is a poor, blind Samson in this land,
Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel,
Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand,
And shake the pillars of this Commonweal,
Till the vast Temple of our liberties
A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies. ”

“ And oft the blessed time foretells
When all men shall be free;
And musical, as silver bells,
Their falling chains shall be. ”