My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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OUR MARTYRS. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
255
OUR MARTYRS.
They are gone!
When Hope's blossoms, many-numbered,
Into flower burst;
When on earthquake-edge they slumbered,
Who have Man accursed;
When our hearts, like throbbing drums,
Beat for Freedom; sang “She comes!”
There they stumbled 'mong the tombs.
When Hope's blossoms, many-numbered,
Into flower burst;
When on earthquake-edge they slumbered,
Who have Man accursed;
When our hearts, like throbbing drums,
Beat for Freedom; sang “She comes!”
There they stumbled 'mong the tombs.
They are gone!
Freedom's strong ones, young and hoary,
Beautiful in faith!
And her first dawn-blush of glory
Gilds their camp of death!
There they lie in shrouds of blood;
Murdered, where for Right they stood—
Martyrs murdered doing good.
Freedom's strong ones, young and hoary,
Beautiful in faith!
And her first dawn-blush of glory
Gilds their camp of death!
There they lie in shrouds of blood;
Murdered, where for Right they stood—
Martyrs murdered doing good.
They are gone!
Yet 'tis well to die up-giving
Valour's vengeful breath,
To make Heroes of the living,—
Thus divine is death.
One by one, true hearts! you left us!
Yet Hope hath not all bereft us:
Still we man the gap you cleft us!
Yet 'tis well to die up-giving
Valour's vengeful breath,
To make Heroes of the living,—
Thus divine is death.
One by one, true hearts! you left us!
Yet Hope hath not all bereft us:
Still we man the gap you cleft us!
They are here!
In the silent tears that start
Thinking of their loss;
In the Ætna of each heart,
Where flames of Vengeance toss!
They are with us, they are here,
Smiling in the flash o' the tear,
Happy when we know they are near!
In the silent tears that start
Thinking of their loss;
In the Ætna of each heart,
Where flames of Vengeance toss!
256
Smiling in the flash o' the tear,
Happy when we know they are near!
They are here!
Here, where life ran ruddy rain,
When power from God seemed wrenched;
Here, where tears fell—molten brain!
And hands were agony-clenched!
Lift the veil and look! Ah! now
There's a glory, where the glow
Of their fire-crown seamed each brow.
Here, where life ran ruddy rain,
When power from God seemed wrenched;
Here, where tears fell—molten brain!
And hands were agony-clenched!
Lift the veil and look! Ah! now
There's a glory, where the glow
Of their fire-crown seamed each brow.
They are here!
With us in the march of time;
With us side by side!
Let us live their lives sublime,
Die as they have died!
Wait: these Martyrs yet shall come,
Myriad-fold from out their tomb!
In the Despots' day of doom.
With us in the march of time;
With us side by side!
Let us live their lives sublime,
Die as they have died!
Wait: these Martyrs yet shall come,
Myriad-fold from out their tomb!
In the Despots' day of doom.
| My Lyrical Life | |