 | Poems: New and Old |  |
[The Youth starts up and speaks.]
[The Fays dance again silently: the sun sets, and they sink to sleep. The Veiled Figure moves forward again, and stands motionless where the Youth had lain dreaming. The Curtain falls.]
How long have I been sleeping? Now this place
Is changed, as though after a hundred years
That which lay bound by some ignoble spell
Had heard a silver trumpet, leapt afoot,
And marched with tramp of thousands to the fight.
Surely I heard that call—surely it came
Ringing with countless echoes of old wars:
With tender pity, red indignant wrath,
White cold resolve and hatred of the beast,
Courage that knows not fear, courage that knows
And knowing dares a hundred deaths in one,
Freedom that lives by service, kindliness
That even in anger keeps men's brotherhood,
And love of country, that high passionate pride
In the old visions of a generous race,
Not yet fulfilled, but never yet forsaken—
Ay! these I heard, and all my blood remembers
That so my fathers heard them.
Is changed, as though after a hundred years
That which lay bound by some ignoble spell
Had heard a silver trumpet, leapt afoot,
And marched with tramp of thousands to the fight.
Surely I heard that call—surely it came
Ringing with countless echoes of old wars:
With tender pity, red indignant wrath,
122
Courage that knows not fear, courage that knows
And knowing dares a hundred deaths in one,
Freedom that lives by service, kindliness
That even in anger keeps men's brotherhood,
And love of country, that high passionate pride
In the old visions of a generous race,
Not yet fulfilled, but never yet forsaken—
Ay! these I heard, and all my blood remembers
That so my fathers heard them.
Oh! I had seen
My garden with dull eyes; that which was mine—
The best of my inheritance—the sight
Of those immortal ghosts whose living glory
For ever haunts the home of their renown—
I had lost it till this moment!
My garden with dull eyes; that which was mine—
The best of my inheritance—the sight
Of those immortal ghosts whose living glory
For ever haunts the home of their renown—
I had lost it till this moment!
Now I wake:
I know what I have loved, I see again
Beneath the beauty of life perishing
That which transfigures, that which makes the world
Of life enduring.
I know what I have loved, I see again
Beneath the beauty of life perishing
That which transfigures, that which makes the world
Of life enduring.
If there must be death
Let it be mine! If there must be defeat
Let it be mine, my Country, and not thine!
Let it be mine! I hear a voice within me—
All's lost, all's won!—the gift is perfected!
[He marches away proudly, to the same music.]
Let it be mine! If there must be defeat
Let it be mine, my Country, and not thine!
Let it be mine! I hear a voice within me—
All's lost, all's won!—the gift is perfected!
[The Fays dance again silently: the sun sets, and they sink to sleep. The Veiled Figure moves forward again, and stands motionless where the Youth had lain dreaming. The Curtain falls.]
| Poems: New and Old | |