Part 10

"I see their Banner in the red dawn flashing-- Haughty is the legend, plain to all men's sight, Traced in their heart's blood, which the breeze upcatching, Flings out in flame-words--Liberty and Right!

"Onward they come, still gathering in power, Serried ranks of men o'er the crimson-clouded lawn; Banners glisten brightly in the golden shower Pouring through the portals of the golden Dawn.

"Each bears a symbol, glorious in its meaning, Holy as the music of the crown'd Bard's Psalm: Faith gazing upward, on her Anchor leaning, Peace with the Olive, and Mercy with the Palm."

Long have we waited, O Watcher, for the vision, Splendid in promise we now can see it rise, Scattering the darkness, while with hero-mission Brave hands uplift Hope's banner to the skies.

Not with vain clamour, but the soul's strength revealing In the golden silence of all great true deeds, Banded in strength for human rights appealing, Banded in love for our poor human needs.

Bitter was the Past; let it rest, a new Æon Preaches a new Gospel to man not in vain, Earth through all her kingdoms echoes back the Pæan Chanted once by Angels on the star-lit plain.

Brotherhood of Nations, disdaining ancient quarrel, Brotherhood of Peoples, flushed with a nobler rage, Palm branch and Olive let us mingle with the Laurel In the radiant future of the coming Age!

AN APPEAL TO IRELAND.

I.

The sin of our race is upon us, The pitiless, cruel disdain Of brother for brother, tho' coiling Round both is the one fatal chain; And aimless and reckless and useless Our lives pass along to the grave In tumults of words that bewilder, And the conflicts of slave with slave.

II.

Yet shadows are heavy around us, The darkness of sin and of shame, While the souls of the Nation to slumber Are lulled by vain visions of fame; True hearts, passion-wasted, and breaking With sense of our infinite wrong, Oh! wake them, nor dread the awaking, We need all the strength of the strong.

III.

For we rage with senseless endeavours In a fever of wild unrest, While glory lies trampled, dishonoured, Death-pale, with a wound in her breast; Had we loosened one chain from the spirit, Had we strove from the ruin of things To build up a Temple of Concord, More fair than the palace of Kings;

IV.

Our name might be heard where the Nations Press on to the van of the fight, Where Progress makes war upon Evil, And Darkness is scattered by Light. They have gold and frankincense and myrrh To lay at the feet of their King, But we--what have we but the wine-cup Of wrath and of sorrow to bring?

V.

Let us ask of our souls, lying under The doom of this bondage and ban, Why we, made by God high as Angels, Should fall so much lower than man; Some indeed have been with us would scale Heav'n's heights for life-fire if they dare-- But the vultures now gnaw at their hearts Evermore on the rocks of Despair.

VI.

Let us think, when we stand before God, On the Day of the Judgment roll, And He asks of the work we have done In the strength of each God-like soul; Can we answer--"Our prayers have gone up As light from the stars and the sun, And Thy blessing came down on our deeds As a crown when the victory's won.

VII.

"We fought with wild beasts, wilder passions, As of old did the saints of God, Tho' our life-blood ran red in the dust Of the fierce arena we trod; We led up Thy people triumphant From Egypt's dark bondage of sin, And made the fair land which Thou gavest All glorious without and within.

VIII.

"We changed to a measure of music The discord and wail of her days. For sorrow gave garments of gladness, For scorn of her enemies praise. We crowned her a Queen in the triumph Of noble and beautiful lives, While her chariot of Freedom rolled on Through the crash of her fallen gyves."

IX.

I ask of you, Princes, and Rulers, I ask of you, Brothers around, Can ye thus make reply for our people When the Nations are judged or crowned? If not, give the reins of the chariot To men who can curb the wild steeds-- They are nearing the gulf, in this hour We appeal by our wrongs and our needs.

X.

Stand back and give place to new leaders; We need them--some strong gifted souls, From whose lips, never touched by a falsehood, The heart's richest eloquence rolls. True Patriots by grandeur of purpose, True men by the power of the brain: The chosen of God to lift upward His Ark with hands clear of all stain.

XI.

We need them to tend the Lord's vineyard, As shepherds to watch round His fold, With brave words from pure hearts outpouring, As wine from a chalice of gold; That the souls of the Nation uplifted, May shine in new radiance of light, As of old stood the Prophets transfigured In glory with Christ on the height.

XII.

Far out, where the grand western sunsets Flush crimson the mountain and sea, And the echoes of Liberty mingle With the roar of the waves on the lea; Where over the dim shrouded passes The clouds fling a rainbow-hued arch, And through giant-rent portals a people Go forth on their sad, solemn march:

XIII.

I had dreams of a future of glory For this fair motherland of mine, When knowledge would bring with its splendours The Human more near the Divine. And as flash follows flash on the mountains, When lightnings and thunders are hurled, So would throb in electrical union Her soul with the soul of the world.

XIV.

For we stand too apart in our darkness, As planets long rent from the sun, And the mystical breath of the spirit Scarce touches our hearts sweeping on. I appeal from this drear isolation To earth, to the mountains, and sky-- Must we die as of thirst in a desert, While full tides of life pass us by?

XV.

Yet still, through the darkness and sorrow, I dream of a time yet to be, When from mountain and ocean to Heaven Will rise up the Hymn of the Free. When our Country, made perfect through trial, White-robed, myrtle-crowned, as a Bride, Will stand forth, "a Lady of Kingdoms," Through Light and through Love glorified.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: "Kings--The Earthly Elohim."--+SIR THOMAS BROWNE.+]

[Footnote 2: Palmyra, or Tadmor.]

[Footnote 3: On reading his Essay on the Collation of Certain Ancient Spanish Manuscripts, printed from the proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy.]

[Footnote 4: Abdallah is known in history as "El triste Rey."]

[Footnote 5: This taunt of the Sultana mother is related by Condé.]

[Footnote 6: Lorc, or Lorcan, an ancient King of Munster, the grandfather of the great King Brian Boru.]

[Footnote 7: This Irish poem, so pathetic and expressive in its simplicity, first appeared in the _Dublin University Magazine_, in the Essay on "The Food of the Irish," by Sir William Wilde. It is quoted by him as "highly characteristic both of the feelings of the people and the extent of the calamity of that time; besides being a good specimen of the native poetry of the Irish more than a hundred years ago."]

[Footnote 8: "Thoughts come again, convictions perpetuate themselves opportunities pass by irrecoverably."--+GOETHE.+]

[Footnote 9: Novgorod the Great.]

[Footnote 10: Lithuania.]

End of Project Gutenberg's Poems by Speranza, by Jane Francesca Agnes Wilde