THE GUERILLA LEADER'S VOW by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

MY battle-vow! -- no minster walls
Gave back the burning word,
Nor cress nor shrine the low deep tone
Of smothered vengeance heard:
But the ashes of a ruined home
Thrilled, as it sternly rose,
With the mingling voice of blood that shook
The midnight's dark repose.

I breathed it not o'er kingly tombs,
But where my children lay,
And the startled vulture at my step
Soared from their precious clay.
I stood amidst my dead alone --
I kissed their lips -- I poured,
In the strong silence of that hour,
My spirit on my sword.

The roof-tree fallen, the smouldering floor,
The blackened threshold-stone,
The bright hair torn, and soiled with blood,
Whose fountain was my own;
These, and the everlasting hills,
Bore witness that wild night;
Before them rose the avenger's soul,
In crushed affection's might.

The stars, the searching stars of heaven
With keen looks would upbraid,
If from my heart the fiery vow,
Seared on it then, could fade.
They have no cause! -- Go, ask the streams
That by my path have swept,
The red waves that unstained were borne --
How hath my faith been kept?

And other eyes are on my soul,
That never, never close,
The sad, sweet glances of the lost --
They leave me no repose.
Haunting my night-watch 'midst the rocks,
And by the torrent's foam,
Through the dark-rolling mists they shine,
Full, full of love and home!

Alas! the mountain eagle's heart,
When wronged, may yet find rest;
Scorning the place made desolate,
He seeks another nest.
But I -- your soft looks wake the thirst
That wins no quenching rain;
Ye drive me back, my beautiful!
To the stormy fight again.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...