There was a time in Europe long ago
    When no man died for freedom anywhere,
    But England's lion leaping from its lair
    Laid hands on the oppressor! it was so
    While England could a great Republic sho
    Witness the men of Piedmont, chiefest care
    Of Cromwell, when with impotent despair
    The Pontiff in his painted portico
    Trembled before our stern ambassador
    How comes it then that from such high estate
    We have thus fallen, save that Luxury
    With barren merchandise piles up the gate
    Where noble thoughts and deeds should enter by:
    Else might we still be Milton's heritor
