Duganne's Poetical Works Autograph edition. Seventy-five Copies |
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 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
But thou, my country! land of birth and love!
Delphos of Nations! at whose gate
Their countless multitudes await
The oracle that, thundering from above,
Interprets Freedom's fate!—
Mecca of Ages! at whose shrine
The pilgrim centuries recline,
And look to thee—to THEE!
For that great sequel to their noblest deeds;
For that broad harvest of their scattered seeds;
For that dear bounty to their sorest needs,—
The PROOF of liberty!
Delphos of Nations! at whose gate
Their countless multitudes await
The oracle that, thundering from above,
Interprets Freedom's fate!—
92
The pilgrim centuries recline,
And look to thee—to THEE!
For that great sequel to their noblest deeds;
For that broad harvest of their scattered seeds;
For that dear bounty to their sorest needs,—
The PROOF of liberty!
The old world throbs with turbulent unrest!
Her nations crowd to war—
And, hark! with dreadful jar
The temple-gates of Janus they unbar!
Her monarchs mad with empire's quest—
Her peoples sore opprest—
Await the strife of Sultan and of Czar!
But, throned serenely in the West—
Where struggling Man beholds his freedom-star—
One Great Republic watches from afar!
Her nations crowd to war—
And, hark! with dreadful jar
The temple-gates of Janus they unbar!
Her monarchs mad with empire's quest—
Her peoples sore opprest—
Await the strife of Sultan and of Czar!
But, throned serenely in the West—
Where struggling Man beholds his freedom-star—
One Great Republic watches from afar!
One Great Republic!—great in generous souls!
Supremely great—that she herself controls,
Nor yokes her power to Havoc's car,
To swell the Orient war!
Great in her storied Past!
Whose mighty deeds are mankind's Runnymedes—
Whereby its freedom-charter, broad and vast,
Each yearning nation reads!
Great in her Present, while her flag, unfurled,
In neutral calmness challenges the world!—
But yet more gloriously great
That she can cast her awful power
In Virtue's shining van:
That she may all the future dower
With blessings unto Man!
Supremely great—that she herself controls,
Nor yokes her power to Havoc's car,
To swell the Orient war!
Great in her storied Past!
Whose mighty deeds are mankind's Runnymedes—
Whereby its freedom-charter, broad and vast,
Each yearning nation reads!
93
In neutral calmness challenges the world!—
But yet more gloriously great
That she can cast her awful power
In Virtue's shining van:
That she may all the future dower
With blessings unto Man!
No armies fright her vales!
No battle-din assails!
No hireling guards around her portal stand!
But when a stranger nation, starving, cries
For succor at her hand;
O then, in marshalled lines,
Each ripening harvest shines,
And glittering sheaves of golden corn arise—
To conquer and o'er-run the foreign land!
No battle-din assails!
No hireling guards around her portal stand!
But when a stranger nation, starving, cries
For succor at her hand;
O then, in marshalled lines,
Each ripening harvest shines,
And glittering sheaves of golden corn arise—
To conquer and o'er-run the foreign land!
One Great Republic! lo! she towers sublime!
The Hope of Nations, and the Goal of Time!
The van of empire and the throne of mind!
Like that dread Angel who at last shall stand,
With foot upon the sea and land,—
With power from God to loose and bind
The myriads of mankind!
The Hope of Nations, and the Goal of Time!
The van of empire and the throne of mind!
Like that dread Angel who at last shall stand,
With foot upon the sea and land,—
With power from God to loose and bind
The myriads of mankind!
| Duganne's Poetical Works | |