POSTHUMOUS POEMS
Since tyranny began the silent ill,
And Slaughter satiates yet her ravenous will.
Surely the time is near—
The dawn grows wide and clear;
And fiercer beams than pave the steps of day
Pierce all the brightening air
And in some nightly lair
The keen white lightning hungers for his prey,
Against his chain the growing thunder yearns
With hot swift pulses all the silence burns,
And the earth hears, and maddens with delay.
And Slaughter satiates yet her ravenous will.
Surely the time is near—
The dawn grows wide and clear;
And fiercer beams than pave the steps of day
Pierce all the brightening air
And in some nightly lair
The keen white lightning hungers for his prey,
Against his chain the growing thunder yearns
With hot swift pulses all the silence burns,
And the earth hears, and maddens with delay.
III
Dost thou not hear, thro' the hushed heart of night,
The voices wailing for thy help, thy sight,
The souls, that call their lord?
"We want the voice, the sword,
We want the hand to strike, the love to share
The weight we cannot bear;
The soul to point our way, the heart to do and dare.
We want the unblinded eye,
The spirit pure and high,
And consecrated by enduring care:
For now we dare not meet
The memories of the past;
Dost thou not hear, thro' the hushed heart of night,
The voices wailing for thy help, thy sight,
The souls, that call their lord?
"We want the voice, the sword,
We want the hand to strike, the love to share
The weight we cannot bear;
The soul to point our way, the heart to do and dare.
We want the unblinded eye,
The spirit pure and high,
And consecrated by enduring care:
For now we dare not meet
The memories of the past;
168
