Hail to thee, Cambria! for the unfettered wind <br />Which from thy wilds even now methinks I feel, <br />Chasing the clouds that roll in wrath behind, <br />And tightening the soul's laxest nerves to steel; <br />True mountain Liberty alone may heal <br />The pain which Custom's obduracies bring, <br />And he who dares in fancy even to steal <br />One draught from Snowdon's ever sacred spring <br />Blots out the unholiest rede of worldly witnessing. <br /> <br />And shall that soul, to selfish peace resigned, <br />So soon forget the woe its fellows share? <br />Can Snowdon's Lethe from the free-born mind <br />So soon the page of injured penury tear? <br />Does this fine mass of human passion dare <br />To sleep, unhonouring the patriot’s fall, <br />Or life’s sweet load in quietude to bear <br />While millions famish even in Luxury’s hall, <br />And Tyranny, high raised, stern lowers on all? <br /> <br />No, Cambria! never may thy matchless vales <br />A heart so false to hope and virtue shield; <br />Nor ever may thy spirit-breathing gales <br />Waft freshness to the slaves who dare to yield. <br />For me!...the weapon that I burn to wield <br />I seek amid thy rocks to ruin hurled, <br />That Reason’s flag may over Freedom’s field, <br />Symbol of bloodless victory, wave unfurled, <br />A meteor-sign of love effulgent o’er the world. <br />... <br /> <br />Do thou, wild Cambria, calm each struggling thought; <br />Cast thy sweet veil of rocks and woods between, <br />That by the soul to indignation wrought <br />Mountains and dells be mingled with the scene; <br />Let me forever be what I have been, <br />But not forever at my needy door <br />Let Misery linger speechless, pale and lean; <br />I am the friend of the unfriended poor,-- <br />Let me not madly stain their righteous cause in gore.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-leaving-london-for-wales/
