My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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A WELCOME. |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
A WELCOME.
Ho! Patriots of Old England, wake!
And join ye heart and hand,
To welcome him for Freedom's sake
To our dear Fatherland!
He needs no proud Triumphal Arch,
Nor Banners on the wind:
In hearts that beat his triumph-march,
Kossuth is fitly shrined!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
And join ye heart and hand,
To welcome him for Freedom's sake
To our dear Fatherland!
He needs no proud Triumphal Arch,
Nor Banners on the wind:
In hearts that beat his triumph-march,
Kossuth is fitly shrined!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
He rose like Freedom's Morning star,
Where all was darkling, dim;
We saw his glory from afar,
And fought in soul for him!
Brave Victor! how his radiant brow
Kinged Freedom's host like Saul!
And in his Crown of Sorrow now
He's royallest heart of all.
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
Where all was darkling, dim;
We saw his glory from afar,
And fought in soul for him!
259
Kinged Freedom's host like Saul!
And in his Crown of Sorrow now
He's royallest heart of all.
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
Ay, English hearts through proud tears gush
With glory at his name,
Whose brave deeds made the roused blood rush
Along our veins like flame:
We cheered him through his hero-strife
And, in his presence met,
Will show the world that patriot life
Lives in Old England yet!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
With glory at his name,
Whose brave deeds made the roused blood rush
Along our veins like flame:
We cheered him through his hero-strife
And, in his presence met,
Will show the world that patriot life
Lives in Old England yet!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
He cometh dim with glorious dust,
From out his wrestling-ring:
But, blessings—praises—deathless trust—
Like armies round him cling!
His Hungary billows o'er with graves
Of Martyrs not in vain;
A rising ripening harvest waves
Its fruit of that red rain!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
From out his wrestling-ring:
But, blessings—praises—deathless trust—
Like armies round him cling!
His Hungary billows o'er with graves
Of Martyrs not in vain;
A rising ripening harvest waves
Its fruit of that red rain!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
260
Freedom will run her radiant round,
Though clouds shut out the sky;
O may his country's heart yet bound
To Kossuth's conquering cry;
And once again the Hapsburgh Star
His flaming Sword make dim;
And palsy strike the arm that dare
Not strike a blow for him!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
Though clouds shut out the sky;
O may his country's heart yet bound
To Kossuth's conquering cry;
And once again the Hapsburgh Star
His flaming Sword make dim;
And palsy strike the arm that dare
Not strike a blow for him!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
Ring out, exult, and clap your hands,
Free Men and Women brave;
Shout, Britain! shake the startled lands,
And free the bounden Slave!
Come forth, make merry in the sun,
And give him welcome due;
Heroic deeds have crowned him one
Of Earth's Immortal few!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
Free Men and Women brave;
Shout, Britain! shake the startled lands,
And free the bounden Slave!
Come forth, make merry in the sun,
And give him welcome due;
Heroic deeds have crowned him one
Of Earth's Immortal few!
We meet him here, we greet him here—
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome cheer,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.
| My Lyrical Life | |