| OLD Thebes could boast of her gates of brass, | |
| As they grated on hinges hoary, | |
| And loosened their bolts for a monarch to pass, | |
| On his errands of guilt and glory. | |
| |
| But their portals were closed on a nation of slaves, | 5 |
| Kneeling low at the foot of a Pharaoh, | |
| And the Nile now waters an Egypt of graves, | |
| From sepulchral Philæ, to Cairo. | |
| |
| Remorseless Time, in his journeying’s on, | |
| Like Samson, at Gaza, of old, | 10 |
| On his shoulders her hundred gates have bore, | |
| And covered their sheen with mold. | |
| |
| But further than Ind, in the western world, | |
| Unknown to the sages olden, | |
| Young Freedom, at length, has her banner unfurled, | 15 |
| In a city whose Gate is Golden. | |
| |
| Its glittering bars are the breakers high, | |
| Its hinges are hills of granite, | |
| Its bolts are the winds, its arch is the sky, | |
| Its corner-stone a planet! | 20 |
| |
| Inside of its portals no slave bows his head, | |
| To priestess of On or of Isis, | |
| Or covers the ground a monarch may tread, | |
| With the slime of a minion’s kisses. | |
| |
| But proud of his home in a city so fair, | 25 |
| Enthroned on her hillocks seven, | |
| He stands like a Roman, and breathes the free air, | |
| And kneels to no God, but in heaven. | |
| |
| No giant can tear from their pillars away, | |
| The Golden Gate of his glory, | 30 |
| For as long as the winds and the waters play, | |
| It shall swing on its hinges hoary. | |
| |
