There was a time in Europe long ago

　　When no man died for freedom anywhere，

　　But England's lion leaping from its lair¹

　　Laid hands on the oppressor！ it was so

　　While England could a great Republic show.

　　Witness the men of Piedmont， chiefest care

　　Of Cromwell， when with impotent despair

　　The Pontiff in his painted portico²

　　Trembled before our stern ambassadors.

　　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 heritors.

Oscar Wilde