If thou art living, in that Devil's Isle
Inquisitorial and darkly vile,
Where human hearts are pitilessly broken;
Where treacherous hate seems stronger
Than either right or law; where grief hath
Its final word and asks but to forget:
If thou art living, wretched one! live yet
A little longer!
Outcast, forsaken, thou art not alone,
One bides with thee Who shall thy woes atone,
And France, entangled in her toils of hate,
Hearkens a voice of warning.
Martyr and hope of an imperiled State,
Live yet a little! In the East is light—
A pledge to thee that long tho seem the night,
There comes the morning!