Poems (Elgee, 1907)/The old man's blessing

by Jane Francesca Agnes Elgee

THE OLD MAN'S BLESSING.

INE eye is dull, my hair is white,This arm is powerless for the fight,Alas! alas! the battle's vanSuits not a weak and aged man.Thine eye is bright, thine arm is strong—Tis Youth must right our country's wrong.Arise, my son, and proudly bearThis sword that I was wont to wear;Firm grasp the hilt, fling down the sheath—A thousand years their wrongs bequeath To thy young heart, thy hot revenge—Kneel down, and swear thou wilt avenge.

May thy hand be fierce as Até's,Fighting for our old Penates;May thy glance be lightning flashes,May thy words he thunder crashes,May that earnest, haughty frown,Like weapon, strike the foeman down.May thy smile of scorn beBlasting as the Upas tree;Boldly like Olympian God,Hurl the tyrants from our sod,Let their wail be Ichabod!

Be to them destruction glooming—Be to them a vengeance looming,Hair-suspended o'er their race,Like the sword of Damoclés,Let thy daring right hand free us,Like that son of old Ægeus,Who purged his land for evermoreFrom the blood-stained Minotaur.Fear not death, but fear dishonour;Yield thy country all but honour.What more fitting warrior's shroudThan the foeman's standard proud?Heed ye not their glozing words;Fear ye not their myriad swords;Never make ye peace with themTill ye chant their requiem.Ha! I hear thy heart's pulsation.Throbbing vengeance for our nation;Ha! I see thy dark eyes shineWith a fury leonine—Burning brow and clenchéd hand—Quivering lip and naked brand—Arise! arise! my patriot son,By hearts like thine is Freedom won!