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394
A PLEA FOR THE REPUBLIC.
You have delivered our afflicted earth
Of that Napoleonic After-birth,
Begot of horrible rape and hideous wrong,
With which abortion France hath travailed long;
But do not bleed to death a gallant nation
Suffering the Cæsarean operation!
Of that Napoleonic After-birth,
Begot of horrible rape and hideous wrong,
With which abortion France hath travailed long;
But do not bleed to death a gallant nation
Suffering the Cæsarean operation!
Burn out of earth all record of his hand:
Right to the soul of us efface the brand!
Let all men see that Paris hath arisen
To erect her throne on ruins of her prison!
Each beauty blast that decked her as his Slave;
But do not bury us in the Empire's grave.
Right to the soul of us efface the brand!
Let all men see that Paris hath arisen
To erect her throne on ruins of her prison!
Each beauty blast that decked her as his Slave;
But do not bury us in the Empire's grave.
You came with Resurrection in your tread!
Was it for Second death you woke the dead?
You rolled the Gravestone of the Soul away,
Is it to thrust us deeper from the day,
Because you were so wronged, while we were bound
Blind in a dungeon, worse than underground?
Was it for Second death you woke the dead?
You rolled the Gravestone of the Soul away,
Is it to thrust us deeper from the day,
Because you were so wronged, while we were bound
Blind in a dungeon, worse than underground?
His Slaves, his Hirelings, shouted for the war,
But we went chained to Cæsar's battle-car;
Dumb for the sacrifice, were safely gagged,
And in his dust-cloud to the conflict dragged.
We voted “Yes,” but that the Tyrant knew
Meant liberty at home, not war with you.
But we went chained to Cæsar's battle-car;
Dumb for the sacrifice, were safely gagged,
And in his dust-cloud to the conflict dragged.
We voted “Yes,” but that the Tyrant knew
Meant liberty at home, not war with you.
395
Ah, do not bid our young Republic die!
Now you have rooted out the cancerous Lie,
And freed us from the curse that drained our blood
And spirit more than all your battle could;
Do not put out our struggling, only light,
Whereby we still distinguish wrong from right.
Now you have rooted out the cancerous Lie,
And freed us from the curse that drained our blood
And spirit more than all your battle could;
Do not put out our struggling, only light,
Whereby we still distinguish wrong from right.
We offer you a Conquest, loftier yet
Than any you have reached with hands red-wet;
Or any you can win, e'en though we stood
And slew and slew till both were blind with blood;
Our little fields made one vast heaving tomb;
All heaven one black pall of smoking gloom.
Than any you have reached with hands red-wet;
Or any you can win, e'en though we stood
And slew and slew till both were blind with blood;
Our little fields made one vast heaving tomb;
All heaven one black pall of smoking gloom.
O, Men! is it not shame enough that we
Have suffered wrongs so great, so helplessly:
So past all common signs of wrong for years
Of wrong too deep for words—too stern for tears?
Think how we were betrayed by Him who hath made
Our streets straight; cleared them for your Cannonade!
Have suffered wrongs so great, so helplessly:
So past all common signs of wrong for years
Of wrong too deep for words—too stern for tears?
Think how we were betrayed by Him who hath made
Our streets straight; cleared them for your Cannonade!
We can but rise up from the dust to kneel;
Trying to gain our feet once more we feel
What hurts we got when down—knocked out of breath,
Kneeled on, heart-crushed, and knuckled nigh to death;
As some poor Madman, who hath dropped and swooned,
Is maimed where none can see his mortal wound.
Trying to gain our feet once more we feel
What hurts we got when down—knocked out of breath,
Kneeled on, heart-crushed, and knuckled nigh to death;
As some poor Madman, who hath dropped and swooned,
Is maimed where none can see his mortal wound.
396
Be generous, Germans! we will take the print
Of kindness deeper than the fierce sword-dint;
A wounded Nation watches—waits to see
The advent of your Red-cross Chivalry:
As the dark spirit of the passing Storm
Springs up divine, and lo! the Rainbow's form!
Of kindness deeper than the fierce sword-dint;
A wounded Nation watches—waits to see
The advent of your Red-cross Chivalry:
As the dark spirit of the passing Storm
Springs up divine, and lo! the Rainbow's form!
We hail you, Brothers, who have broke our bands;
As Brothers we stretch forth to you our hands:
Brothers beside you we would freely march
In peace, beneath glad heaven's triumphal arch:
As Brothers we have Our great part to play
When Kings and Emperors have passed away!
As Brothers we stretch forth to you our hands:
Brothers beside you we would freely march
In peace, beneath glad heaven's triumphal arch:
As Brothers we have Our great part to play
When Kings and Emperors have passed away!
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