30855In War Time — The ProclamationJohn Greenleaf Whittier
THE PROCLAMATION.
Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herdsOf Ballymena, wakened with these words:"Arise, and fleeOut from the land of bondage, and be free!"
Glad as a soul in pain, who hears from heavenThe angels singing of his sins forgiven,And, wondering, seesHis prison opening to their golden keys,
He rose, a man who laid him down a slave,Shook from his locks the ashes of the grave,And outward trodInto the glorious liberty of God.
He cast the symbols of his shame away;And, passing where the sleeping Milcho lay,Though back and limbSmarted with wrong, he prayed, "God pardon him!"
So went he forth: but in God's time he cameTo light on Uilline's hills a holy flame;And, dying, gaveThe land a saint that lost him as a slave.
O dark, sad millions, patiently and dumbWaiting for God, your hour, at last, has come,And freedom's songBreaks the long silence of your night of wrong!
Arise and flee! shake off the vile restraintOf ages; but, like Ballymena's saint,The oppressor spare,Heap only on his head the coals of prayer.
Go forth, like him! like him return again,To bless the land whereon in bitter painYe toiled at first,And heal with freedom what your slavery cursed.