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THE YOUNG PATRIOT LEADER.
Well may they wail for him—power and might were his— Loved as no mortal was loved in the land—What has he sold them for? Sorrow and shame it is, Fair words and false from a recreant band.
V.Time's shade was on him; what matter? we loved him yet; Aye, would have torn the veins with our teeth,Made him a bath of our young blood to pay the debt— Purchased his life, tho' we brough it by death.Pray for him—pray: an archangel has fallen low; There's a throne less in Heaven, there is sorrow on earth.Weep, angels—laugh, demons! When his hand could strike the blow, Where shall we seek for truth, honour, or worth?
THE YOUNG PATRIOT LEADER.
H! he stands beneath the sun, that glorious Fated One Like a martyr or conqueror, wearingOn his brow a mighty doom, be it glory, be it gloom, The shadow of a crown it is bearing.At his Cyclopean stroke the proud heart of man awoke, Like a king from his lordly down-lying;And whereso'er he trod, like the footstep of a God. Was a trail of light the gloom outvying.
In his beauty and his youth, the Apostle of the Truth, Goes he forth with the words of salvation,And a noble madness falls on each spirit he enthralls, As he chants his wild Pæans to the nation.
As a tempest in its force, as a torrent in its course, So his words fiercely sweep all before them,
