Invocation
JUNE, 1866.
BREATHE thro' me in music,
Spirit of the time!
Pregnant with the future,
Spirit of the time!
As the west wind sougheth,
Through the swaying pine,
Sweep tho' all my branches
With thy song divine.
Nations now are rolling
Onward, as the sea
Which the moon upheaveth,
Thus upheaved by thee.
Muffled mutt'ring groweth
Louder on the air!
Like a lion roaring,
Rising from his lair.
As the anthem surgeth
Through cathedral aisles,
Swells the voice of nations
Over miles of miles.
As the thunder growleth
In yon cloud afar,
In their bosoms broodeth
The black bolt of war.
Snap in twain your fetters,
Cleave your ancient yoke,
Burst the gloom of ages
With the lightning stroke.
Clap on clap, down-crashing,
Clatter crowd on crowd,
From Venetia's dungeons,
From the Roman shroud;
From the graves of Poland,
From Germania's plains,
From the death-pollution
Of imperial chains.
Feel yourselves as brothers,
Dare to think ye free;
And in dust will shiver
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poem by Mathilde Blind
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