MEMORY.
‘They are past, the old days: let the past be forgotten:
Let them die the old wrongs and old woes that were ours
Like the leaves of the winter down-trampled and rotten
That light in the spring-time the forest with flowers.’
So sings the sweet voice! But the sad voice replieth;
‘Unstaunch'd is the wound while the insult remains;
The Tudor's black banner above us still flieth;
The Faith of our fathers is spurned in their fanes!
‘Distrust the repentance that clings to its booty!
Give the people their Church and the priesthood its right:
Till then, to remember the past is a duty,
For the past is our Cause, and our Cause is our might.’
