Chapter XVII

My country! To the height of this great thought,
With all that in thee is, with all the weight
Of thy self-consciousness, though born full late,
Upon thee, and thy thronging memories fraught
With germinating dreams, still to be brought
Unto fruition--chastened, consecrate
To the high calling of the Perfect State,
Thou must arise, or, failing, come to naught.
The Organ of the Highest! pre-ordained
To execute the fateful judgment, planned
From the Beginning by the Power that deigned
First to create in air and sea and land
Each thing that breathes and seeks its daily food,
And having formed, pronounced Creation good.

HESEPE, _15th July_