The toil which stole from thee so many an hour, 10 Is ended,--and the fruit is at thy feet! No longer where the woods to frame a bower With interlacèd branches mix and meet, Or where with sound like many voices sweet, Water-falls leap among wild islands green, 15 Which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat Of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen: But beside thee, where still my heart has ever been. Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first The clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass. I do remember well the hour which burst 21 My spirit’s sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And wept, I knew not why; until there rose From the near school-room voices, that, alas! 25 Were but one echo from a world of woes-- The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. And then I clasped my hands and looked around-- But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground-- So without shame I spake:--‘I will be wise, 31 And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannise Without reproach or check.’ I then controlled 35 My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold. And from that hour did I with earnest thought Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore, Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught I cared to learn, but from that secret store 40 Wrought linkèd armour for my soul, before It might walk forth to war among mankind; Thus power and hope were strengthened more and more Within me, till there came upon my mind A sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined. 45 Alas, that love should be a blight and snare To those who seek all sympathies in one!-- Such once I sought in vain; then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone:-- 50 Yet never found I one not false to me, Hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone, Which crushed and withered mine, that could not be Aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee. Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart 55 Fell, like bright spring upon some herbless plain, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert In thy young wisdom, when the mortal chain Of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, And walked as free as light the clouds among, 60 Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long.