Freedom is father of the honest, and sturdy Independence is his brother; These three, with heart and hand, dwell together in unity. The blunt yeoman, stout and true, will speak unto princes unabashed: His mind is loyal, just and free, a crystal in its plain integrity; What should make such an one ashamed? where courtiers kneel, he standeth;-- I will indeed bow before the king, but knees were knit for God. And many such there be, of a high and noble conscience, Honourable, generous, and kind, though blest with little light: What should he barter for his Freedom? some petty gain of gold? Free of speech, and free in act, magnates honour him for boldness: Long may he flourish in his peace, and a stalwarth race around him, Rooted in the soil like oaks, and hardy as the pine upon the mountains! Yet, there be others, that will truckle to a lie, selling honesty for interest: And do they gain?--they gain but loss; a little cash, with scorn. Behold, the sorrowful change wrought upon a fallen nature: He hath lost his own esteem, and other men's respect; For the buoyancy of upright faith, he is clothed in the heaviness of cringing; For plain truth where none could err, he hath chosen tortuous paths; In lieu of his majesty of countenance--the timorous glances of servility; Instead of Freedom's honest pride,--the spirit of a slave. Nevertheless, there is something to be pleaded, even for a necessary guile, Whilst the world, and all that is therein, lieth deep in evil. Who can be altogether honest,--a champion never out of mail, Ready to break a lance for truth with every crowding error? Who can be altogether honest,--dragging out the secresies of life, And risking to be lashed and loathed for each unkind disclosure? Who can be altogether honest,--living in perpetual contentions, And prying out the petty cheats that swell the social scheme? For he must speak his instant mind,--a mind corrupt and sinful, Exhibiting to other men's disgust its undisguised deformities: He must utter all the hatred of his heart, and add to it the venom of his tongue; Shall he feel, and hide his feelings? that were the meanness of a hypocrite:-- Still, O man, such hypocrisy is better, than this bold honesty to sin: Kill the feeling, or conceal it: let shame at least do the work of charity.