Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/171
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THE MARTYRS OF ROYAL-LIEU.
153
iii.
What, sateless still! must still the stream
From noble hearts be poured,
Will Pity never shed its gleam
On that remorseless horde?
Must still some guiltless victim bleed,
And "Freedom" sanctify a deed
To latest times abhorred?
O, Liberty! our pride,—our shame,
What scenes are acted in thy name![1]
What, sateless still! must still the stream
From noble hearts be poured,
Will Pity never shed its gleam
On that remorseless horde?
Must still some guiltless victim bleed,
And "Freedom" sanctify a deed
To latest times abhorred?
O, Liberty! our pride,—our shame,
What scenes are acted in thy name![1]
iv.
But hark what thrilling sounds arise
From yon slow-moving throng;
Floating like incense to the skies
In one rich tide of song!
And see, where opening to their tread
Those threatening forms give back, and led
By faith serene, yet strong,
A patient band, with tireless breath,
Prolong that prelude note of death!
But hark what thrilling sounds arise
From yon slow-moving throng;
Floating like incense to the skies
In one rich tide of song!
And see, where opening to their tread
Those threatening forms give back, and led
By faith serene, yet strong,
A patient band, with tireless breath,
Prolong that prelude note of death!
v.
Theirs is no hope forlorn,—they wend
Exulting on their way;
Reckless how soon their course must end,
Their life-blood ebb away.
They seem to share one thought, one breath
And marshalled thus by faith to death,
In beautiful array,
Those martyr-sisters glide along,
Breathing their parting prayers in song!
Theirs is no hope forlorn,—they wend
Exulting on their way;
Reckless how soon their course must end,
Their life-blood ebb away.
They seem to share one thought, one breath
And marshalled thus by faith to death,
In beautiful array,
Those martyr-sisters glide along,
Breathing their parting prayers in song!
vi.
No fears have they;—the savage crowd
May scowl on them in vain;
Their step is firm, their bearing proud,
Unfailing still their strain!
No fears have they;—the savage crowd
May scowl on them in vain;
Their step is firm, their bearing proud,
Unfailing still their strain!
- ↑ "O, Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name!" was the apostrophe of Madame Boland to the statue of Liberty, as she passed it on her way to the guillotine.