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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
SONNET.
SARSFIELD AND CLARE.
Silent they slumber in the unwholesome shade:And why lament them? Virtue too can die:
Old wisdom labours in extremity;
And greatness stands aghast, and cries for aid
Full often: aye, and honour grows dismayed;
And all those eagle hopes so pure and high
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Drop dustward, self-subverted, self-betrayed.
Call it not joy to walk the immortal floor
Of this exulting earth, nor peace to lie
Where the thronged marbles awe the passer by:
True rest is this; the task, the mission o'er,
To bide God's time and man's neglect to bear—
Hail, loyal Sarsfield! Hail, high-hearted Clare!
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |