XIV

_LONDON_, 1802.
  Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
  England hath need of thee: she is a fen
  Of stagnant waters: altar, sword and pen,
  Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
  Have forfeited their ancient English dower
  Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
  Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
  And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
  Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart:
  Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
  Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
  So didst thou travel on life's common way,
  In chearful godliness; and yet thy heart
  The lowliest duties on itself did lay.

• About William Wordsworth