In the real scene, a warbling lark might
be springing from the grass; in the ideal, a singer[K] of a higher order
might appear remonstrating with feudalism from amidst the roar of the
furnace-blast and the din of the anvil; and then, when his complaint of
social oppression is done, starting forwards to the end of all, and
singing the requiem of the world itself.

"Whose trade is poaching. Honest Jem works not,
Begs not; but thrives by plundering beggars here.
Wise as a lord, and quite as good a shot,
He, like his betters, lives in hate and fear,
And feeds on partridge because bread is dear.
Sire of six sons apprenticed to the jail,
He prowls in arms, the Tory of the night;
With them he shares his battles and his ale;
With him they feel the majesty of might."
"He reads not, writes not, thinks not; scarcely feels:
Steals all he gets; serves Hell with all he steals."

* * * * *

"Yes, and the sail-less worlds which navigate
Th' unutterable deep that hath no shore,
Will lose their starry splendour soon or late,
Like tapers quenched by Him whose will is fate!
Yes, and the angel of Eternity,
Who numbers worlds and writes their names in light,
One day, O Earth, will look in vain for thee,
And start, and stop in his unerring flight;
And with his wings of sorrow and affright
Veil his impassioned brow and heavenly tears!"

Somewhat in the same way as such a supposed philosophic observer might
be imagined to foresee that democratic strains of remonstrance would
here succeed to foresters' and freebooters' songs, may a well-qualified
observer of the present day discern the interior mechanism and the
remote issues of what lies beneath his eyes. While surveying the vast
prairies on the banks of the deep rivers of the Western world, he may
safely anticipate the time when self-governing communities will swarm
where now a settler's log-house and enclosure are the only break in the
wide surface of verdure. While looking down upon the harvests of
Volhynia, or watching the processions of wagons laden with corn, and
slowly wending their way down to Odessa, he may securely conclude that
no vivacious artisan population will enliven this region for a long time
to come; that the inhabitants will continue attached to the despotism
under which they live; and that the morals of a despotism--the morals
which coexist with