SON of a martyred race, that long Has poured its sorrow into song, And taught the world that grief is less When voiced by Music's loveliness: How shall its newer anguish be Interpreted, if not by thee? In whose heart dearer doth abide Thy land's lost century of pride Since triple tyrants tore in three That nation of antiquity -- But could not lock with prison keys The freeman's sacred memories? Now, when thy soil lies wrecked and rent, By cruel waves of warfare spent, Till Famine counts so many slain It looks on Slaughter with disdain, However others grieve, thou show'st The noble spirit suffers most. Master, with whom the world doth sway Like meadow with the wind at play, May Heaven send thee, at this hour, Such access of supernal power That every note beneath thy hand Shall plead for thy distracted land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 16 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO - (3) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR THE BLUET by W. I. LINCOLN ADAMS THE HILLS WE LOVE by GRACE LOWE BROADHEAD |