Ben Jonson, 1615





O POET rare and old!

Thy words are prophecies;

Forward the age of gold,

The new Saturnian lies.



The universal prayer

And hope are not in vain;

Rise, brothers! and prepare

The way for Saturn's reign.



Perish shall all which takes

From labor's board and can;

Perish shall all which makes

A spaniel of the man!



Free from its bonds the mind,

The body from the rod;

Broken all chains that bind

The image of our God.



Just men no longer pine

Behind their prison-bars;

Through the rent dungeon shine

The free sun and the stars.



Earth own, at last, untrod

By sect, or caste, or clan,

The fatherhood of God,

The brotherhood of man!



Fraud fail, craft perish, forth

The money-changers driven,

And God's will done on earth,

As now in heaven;

1852.





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