And shall I join this scramble after fame,
Astonish so the free delightful spirit,
To bind his song, that fettered ears may hear it,
And win an encore, or a sounding name?
Or shall his broad imperial wings go lame,
To make a semblance of existing merit?
Or fly no more less favor disinherit,
And yield his lightness to an ordered game?
Not so! and never for the fickle throng,
One soaring rapture less in fancy free!
But sing thou bonden music's saddest wrong
My spirit-bird, 'til shackles melt for thee--
Still sing, for never yet thy spirit's song,
May bend to crass availability.