A COUNSEL

O strong Republic of the nobler years

Whose white feet shine beside time's fairer flood

That shall flow on the clearer for our blood

Now shed, and the less brackish for our tears;

When time and truth have put out hopes and fears

With certitude, and love has burst the bud,

If these whose powers then down the wind shall scud

Still live to feel thee smite their eyes and ears,

When thy foot's tread hath crushed their crowns and creeds,

Care thou not then to crush the beast that bleeds,

The snake whose belly cleaveth to the sod,

Nor set thine heel on men as on their deeds;

But let the worm Napoleon crawl untrod,

Nor grant Mastai the gallows of his God.