 | Later Lyrics |  |
12
THE FIRST MARTYR.
My five-years' darling, on my knee,
Chattered and toyed and laughed with me:
“Now tell me, mother mine,” quoth she,
“Where you went i' the afternoon.”
“Alas! my pretty little life,
I went to see a sorrowing wife,
Who will be widowed soon.”
Chattered and toyed and laughed with me:
“Now tell me, mother mine,” quoth she,
“Where you went i' the afternoon.”
“Alas! my pretty little life,
I went to see a sorrowing wife,
Who will be widowed soon.”
“Now, mother, what is that?” she said,
With wondering eyes and restless head:
“Will, then, her husband soon be dead?
Tell me, why must he die?
Is he like flowers the frost doth sear,
Or like the birds, that, every year,
Melt back into the sky?”
With wondering eyes and restless head:
“Will, then, her husband soon be dead?
Tell me, why must he die?
Is he like flowers the frost doth sear,
Or like the birds, that, every year,
Melt back into the sky?”
“No, love: the flowers may bloom their time,
The birdlings sing their merry chime,
Till bids them seek another clime
The Winter sharp and cold;
But he who waits with fettered limb,
Nor God nor Nature sends for him,—
He is not weak nor old.
The birdlings sing their merry chime,
Till bids them seek another clime
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But he who waits with fettered limb,
Nor God nor Nature sends for him,—
He is not weak nor old.
“He lies upon a prison bed
With sabre gashes on his head;
And one short month will see him led
Where Vengeance wields the sword.
Then shall his form be lifted high,
And strangled in the public eye
With horrible accord.”
With sabre gashes on his head;
And one short month will see him led
Where Vengeance wields the sword.
Then shall his form be lifted high,
And strangled in the public eye
With horrible accord.”
“But, mother, say, what has he done?
Has he not robbed or murdered one?”
“My darling, he has injured none.
To free the wretched slaves
He led a band of chosen men,
Brave, but too few; made captives then,
And doomed to felon graves.”
Has he not robbed or murdered one?”
“My darling, he has injured none.
To free the wretched slaves
He led a band of chosen men,
Brave, but too few; made captives then,
And doomed to felon graves.”
“O mother! let us go this day
To that sad prison, far away;
The cruel governor we'll pray
To unloose the door so stout.
Some comfort we can bring him, sure:
And is he locked up so secure,
We could not get him out?”
To that sad prison, far away;
The cruel governor we'll pray
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Some comfort we can bring him, sure:
And is he locked up so secure,
We could not get him out?”
“No, darling: he is closely kept.”
Then nearer to my heart she crept,
And, hiding there her beauty, wept
For human misery.
Child! it is fit that thou shouldst weep;
The very babe unborn would leap
To rescue such as he.
Then nearer to my heart she crept,
And, hiding there her beauty, wept
For human misery.
Child! it is fit that thou shouldst weep;
The very babe unborn would leap
To rescue such as he.
O babe unborn! O future race!
Heir of our glory and disgrace,
We cannot see thy veilèd face;
But shouldst thou keep our crime,
No new Apocalypse need say
In what wild woe shall pass away
The falsehood of the time.
Heir of our glory and disgrace,
We cannot see thy veilèd face;
But shouldst thou keep our crime,
No new Apocalypse need say
In what wild woe shall pass away
The falsehood of the time.
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