Poem: Quantum Mutata

There was a time in Europe long ago

When no man died for freedom anywhere,

But England's lion leaping from its lair

Laid hands on the oppressor! it was so

While England could a great Republic show.

Witness the men of Piedmont, chiefest care

Of Cromwell, when with impotent despair

The Pontiff in his painted portico

Trembled before our stern ambassadors.

How comes it then that from such high estate

We have thus fallen, save that Luxury

With barren merchandise piles up the gate

Where noble thoughts and deeds should enter by:

Else might we still be Milton's heritors.