on the Coniin;/ CicUhudlon. 387 



He claims his birthriglit. now, and reigns : 



The Titans that o'er chaos ruled, — 

 Lightning and steam, — with giant pains. 



Now run his errands, trained and schooled. 



O People ! once a mass, held down, 



The plaything of the priest and king, 

 You yet shall come into your own, 



A nd to you earth her tribute bring. 



Dethroned, the gods of wrong and hate ; 



Dethroned, the old-time kingly power ; 

 Detlironed, the priesthood's selfish state ; 



Reason enthroned, then comes your hour ! 



The spelling-book shall be the key 



To thrust back in the lock of fate 

 The musty bolts of destiny. 



And bid you enter now, though late. 



But, on God's dial-plate of time, 



'Tis never late for him who stands 

 Self-centred in a trust sublime, 



Witli mastered force and thinking hands. 



The world, then, all before you lies : 



The stars fight for you ; and there waits 



A future where bold enterprise 



Flings open wide the long-shut gates. 



