WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed   Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart   When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my Country!—am I to be blamed?   Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,   Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee; we who find   In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;   And I by my affection was beguiled:   What wonder if a Poet now and then, Among the many movements of his mind,   Felt for thee as a lover or a child!