You shall sit in the middle well-pois'd thousands and
thousands of years,
As to-day from one side the nobles of Asia come to you,
As to-morrow from the other side the queen of England sends
her eldest son to you.
The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed,
The ring is circled, the journey is done,
The box-lid is but perceptibly open'd, nevertheless the perfume
pours copiously out of the whole box.
Young Libertad! with the venerable Asia, the all-mother,
Be considerate with her now and ever hot Libertad, for you
are all,
Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother now sending
messages over the archipelagoes to you,
Bend your proud neck low for once, young Libertad.
Were the children straying westward so long? so wide the
tramping?
Were the precedent dim ages debouching westward from
Paradise so long?
Were the centuries steadily footing it that way, all the while
unknown, for you, for reasons?
They are justified, they are accomplish'd, they shall now be
turn'd the other way also, to travel toward you thence,
They shall now also march obediently eastward for your
sake Libertad.
(1860?) 1881
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