The quality of these trees, green height; of the sky,shining, of water, a clear flow; of the rock,hardness. And reticence: each is noble in its quality. The love offreedom has been the quality of Western man. There is a stubborn torch that flames from Marathonto Concord, its dangerous beauty binding threeages. Into one time; the waves of barbarism and civilizationhave eclipsed but have never quenched it. For the Greeks the love of beauty, for Rome of ruling;for the present age the passionate love ofdiscovery; But in one noble passion we are one; and Washington,Luther, Tacitus, Aeschylus, one kind of man. And you, America, that passion made you. You werenot born to prosperity, you were born to lovefreedom. You did not say "en masse," you said "independence."But we cannot have all the luxuries and freedomalso. Freedom is poor and laborious; that torch is not safebut hungry, and often requires blood for its fuel. You will tame it against it burn too clearly, you willhood it like a kept hawk, you will perch it on thewrist of Caesar. But keep the tradition, conserve the forms, theobservances, keep the spot sore. Be great, carvedeep your heel-harks. The states of the next age will no doubt remember you,and edge their love of freedom with contempt ofluxury.

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