Percy Bysshe Shelley

“ The crowd is mute and moveless—overhead
Silent Arcturus shines—ha! hear'st thou not the tread
XII.
Of rushing feet? laughter? the shout, the scream
Of triumph not to be contained? See! hark!
They come, they come! give way! Alas, ye deem
Falsely—'t is but a crowd of maniacs stark
Driven, like a troop of spectres, through the dark
From the choked well, whence a bright death-fire sprung,
A lurid earth-star, which dropped many a spark
From its blue train, and, spreading widely, clung
To their wild hair, like mist the topmost pines among. ”

“ Purple, and gold, and steel! that ye would go
Proclaiming to the nations whence ye came
That Want and Plague and Fear from slavery flow;
And that mankind is free, and that the shame
Of royalty and faith is lost in freedom's fame! ”

“ Alas, that ye, the mighty and the wise,
Who, if ye dared, might not aspire to less
Than ye conceive of power, should fear the lies
Which thou, and thou, didst frame for mysteries
To blind your slaves! ”