15. 
Oh, that the free would stamp the impious name
Of KING into the dust! or write it there,
So that this blot upon the page of fame
Were as a serpent’s path, which the light air
Erases, and the flat sands close behind! 215
Ye the oracle have heard: 
Lift the victory-flashing sword. 
And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian word,
Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind
Into a mass, irrefragably firm, 220
The axes and the rods which awe mankind;
The sound has poison in it, ’tis the sperm
Of what makes life foul, cankerous, and abhorred;
Disdain not thou, at thine appointed term,
To set thine armed heel on this reluctant worm. 225

16. 
Oh, that the wise from their bright minds would kindle
Such lamps within the dome of this dim world,
That the pale name of PRIEST might shrink and dwindle
Into the hell from which it first was hurled,
A scoff of impious pride from fiends impure; 230
Till human thoughts might kneel alone,
Each before the judgement-throne
Of its own aweless soul, or of the Power unknown! 
Oh, that the words which make the thoughts obscure
From which they spring, as clouds of glimmering dew 235
From a white lake blot Heaven’s blue portraiture,
Were stripped of their thin masks and various hue
And frowns and smiles and splendours not their own,
Till in the nakedness of false and true
They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due! 240

17. 
He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever
Can be between the cradle and the grave
Crowned him the King of Life.  Oh, vain endeavour! 
If on his own high will, a willing slave,
He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor 245
What if earth can clothe and feed
Amplest millions at their need,
And power in thought be as the tree within the seed? 
Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor,
Driving on fiery wings to Nature’s throne, 250
Checks the great mother stooping to caress her,
And cries:  ’Give me, thy child, dominion
Over all height and depth’? if Life can breed
New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan,
Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one! 255

18. 
Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave
Of man’s deep spirit, as the morning-star
Beckons the Sun from the Eoan wave,
Wisdom.  I hear the pennons of her car
Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame; 260
Comes she not, and come ye not,
Rulers of eternal thought,
To judge, with solemn truth, life’s ill-apportioned lot? 
Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame
Of what has been, the Hope of what will be? 265
O Liberty! if such could be thy name
Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee: 
If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought
By blood or tears, have not the wise and free
Wept tears, and blood like tears?—­The solemn harmony 270