Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/90

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POEMS.
Monarchs! ye whose armies stand
 Harnessed for the battle-field!
Pause, and from the lifted hand
 Drop the bolts of war ye wield.
    Stand aloof
    While the proof
Of the people's might is given;
Leave their kings to them and heaven.

Stand aloof, and see the oppressed
 Chase the oppressor, pale with fear,
As the fresh winds of the west
 Blow the misty valleys clear.
    Stand and see
    Italy
Cast the gyves she wears no more
To the gulfs that steep her shore.

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