Jane Wilde
We have now traced the history of women from Paradise to the nineteenth century and have heard nothing through the long roll of the ages but the clank of their fetters.
My country, wounded to the heart, could I but flash along thy soul, electric power to rive apart, the thunder-clouds that round thee roll, and, by my burning words, uplift, thy life from out Death's icy drift, till the full splendors of our age, shone round thee for thy heritage.