Poems (Elgee, 1907)/An appeal to Ireland

by Jane Francesca Agnes Elgee

AN APPEAL TO IRELAND.

I.
HE sin of our race is upon us,
 The pitiless, cruel disdain
Of brother for brother, tho' coiling
 Round both is the one fatal chain;
And aimless and reckless and useless
 Our lives pass along to the grave
In tumults of words that bewilder,
 And the conflicts of slave with slave.

II.
Yet shadows are heavy around us,
 The darkness of sin and of shame,
While the souls of the Nation to slumber
 Are lulled by vain visions of fame;
True hearts, passion-wasted, and breaking
 With sense of our infinite wrong,
Oh! wake them, nor dread the awaking,
 We need all the strength of the strong.

III.
For we rage with senseless endeavours
 In a fever of wild unrest,
While glory lies trampled, dishonoured,
 Death-pale, with a wound in her breast;
Had we loosened one chain from the spirit,
 Had we strove from the ruin of things
To build up a Temple of Concord,
 More fair than the palace of Kings;

IV.
Our name might be heard where the Nations
 Press on to the van of the fight,
Where Progress makes war upon Evil,
 And Darkness is scattered by Light
They have gold and frankincense and myrrh
 To lay at the feet of their King,
But we—what have we but the wine-cup
 Of wrath and of sorrow to bring?

V.
Let us ask of our souls, lying under
 The doom of this bondage and ban,
Why we, made by God high as Angels,
 Should fall so much lower than man;
Some indeed have been with us would scale
 Heav'n's heights for life-fire if they dare—
But the vultures now gnaw at their hearts
 Evermore on the rocks of Despair.

VI.
Let us think, when we stand before God,
 On the Day of the Judgment roll,
And He asks of the work we have done
 In the strength of each God-like soul;
Can we answer—"Our prayers have gone up
 As light from the stars and the sun,
And Thy blessing came down on our deeds
 As a crown when the victory's won.

VII.
"We fought with wild beasts, wilder passions,
 As of old did the saints of God,
Tho' our life-blood ran red in the dust
 Of the fierce arena we trod;
We led up Thy people triumphant
 From Egypt's dark bondage of sin,
And made the fair land which Thou gavest
 All glorious without and within.

VIII.
"We changed to a measure of music
 The discord and wail of her days.
For sorrow gave garments of gladness,
 For scorn of her enemies praise;
We crowned her a Queen in the triumph
 Of noble and beautiful lives,
While her chariot of Freedom rolled on
 Through the crash of her fallen gyves."

IX.
I ask of you, Princes, and Rulers,
 I ask of you, Brothers around,
Can ye thus make reply for our people
 When the Nations are judged or crowned?
If not, give the reins of the chariot
 To men who can curb the wild steeds—
They are nearing the gulf, in this hour
 We appeal by our wrongs and our needs.

X
Stand back and give place to new leaders;
 We need them—some strong gifted souls,
From whose lips, never touched by a falsehood,
 The heart's richest eloquence rolls.
True Patriots by grandeur of purpose,
 True men by the power of the brain:
The chosen of God to lift upward
 His Ark with hands clear of all stain.

XI.
We need them to tend the Lord's vineyard,
 As shepherds to watch round His fold,
With brave words from pure hearts outpouring,
 As wine from a chalice of gold;
That the souls of the Nation uplifted,
 May shine in new radiance of light,
As of old stood the Prophets transfigured
 In glory with Christ on the height.

XII.
Far out, where the grand western sunsets
 Flash crimson the mountain and sea,
And the echoes of Liberty mingle
 With the roar of the waves on the lea;
Where over the dim shrouded passes
 The clouds fling a rainbow-hued arch,
And through giant-rent portals a people
 Go forth on their sad, solemn march:

XIII.
I had dreams of a future of glory
 For this fair motherland of mine,
When knowledge would bring with its splendours
 The Human more near the Divine.
And as flash follows flash on the mountains,
 When lightnings and thunders are hurled,
So would throb in electrical union
 Her soul with the soul of the world.

XIV.
For we stand too apart in our darkness,
 As planets long rent from the sun,
And the mystical breath of the spirit
 Scarce touches our hearts sweeping on.
I appeal from this drear isolation
 To earth, to the mountains, and sky—
Must we die as of thirst in a desert,
 While full tides of life pass us by?

XV.
Yet still, through the darkness and sorrow,
 I dream of a time yet to be,
When from mountain and ocean to Heaven
 Will rise up the Hymn of the Free.
When our Country, made perfect through trial,
 White-robed, myrtle-crowned, as a Bride,
Will stand forth, "a Lady of Kingdoms,"
 Through Light and through Love glorified.