 | Teresa and Other Poems |  |
102
XXII
THE POWER OF THE SPOT
Well, if my heart beat quicker at the sight,
Let it be heard in music. But was he
Indeed a hero that here fell—Dundee,
In Killiecrankie's woful-glorious fight,
Or, sworn to a bad cause, darkness for light,
A monster steeped in blood and bigotry,
His country's evil genius, and we
Slaves but to fancy's witchery and time's flight?
I know not, and if, gazing thus to-day,
Beclouds our eye one sympathetic tear,
If not unmoved we conjure to our ear
The silver summons that no charm could stay,
In Urrard Garden 'tis enough to say
He perished bravely, and he perished here.
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