Your nation is like a fine, florid youth, full of fiery impulses, and
hard to restrain; his strong hand nobly championing his heart. On all
sides, freely he gives, and still seeks to acquire. The breath of his
nostrils is like smoke in spring air; every tendon is electric with
generous resolves. The oppressor he defies to his beard; the high
walls of old opinions he scales with a bound. In the future he sees
all the domes of the East.

"But years elapse, and this bold boy is transformed. His eyes open not
as of yore; his heart is shut up as a vice. He yields not a groat; and
seeking no more acquisitions, is only bent on preserving his hoard.
The maxims once trampled under foot, are now printed on his front; and
he who hated oppressors, is become an oppressor himself.

"Thus, often, with men; thus, often, with nations. Then marvel not,
sovereign-kings! that old states are different from yours; and think
not, your own must forever remain liberal as now.

"Each age thinks its own is eternal. But though for five hundred
twelve-moons, all Romara, by courtesy of history, was republican; yet,
at last, her terrible king-tigers came, and spotted themselves with
gore.

"And time was, when Dominora was republican, down to her sturdy back-
bone. The son of an absolute monarch became the man Karolus; and his
crown and head, both rolled in the dust. And Dominora had her patriots
by thousands; and lusty Defenses, and glorious Areopagiticas
were written, not since surpassed; and no turban was doffed save in
homage of Oro.