Page:Felicia Hemans in The Winter's Wreath 1831.pdf/5

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Wherein the land may rest! My king, this hour (Solemn as that which to the voyager's eye In far and dim perspective doth unfold A new and boundless world;) may haply be The last in which the courage and the power Of Truth's high voice shall reach you! Who may stand As man to man, as friend to friend, before Th' ancestral throne of monarchs? Or, perchance, Toils, such as tame the loftiest to endurance, Henceforth may wait us here! But howsoe'er This be, the lessons won from sufferings past, Befit all time, all change. Oh! by the blood, The free, the generous blood of Portugal Shed on the sands of Afric; by the names Which, with their centuries of high renown, There died, extinct for ever; let not those Who stood in hope and glory at our side Here, on this very sea beach, whence they passed To fall, and leave no trophy; let them not Be soon, be e'er forgotten! for their fate Bears a deep warning in its awfulness, Whence power might well learn wisdom!

. Thinkest thou then That years of sufferance and captivity, Such as have bowed down eagle hearts ere now, And made high energies their spoil, have passed So lightly o'er my spirit ? It is not thus! The things thou wouldst recall are not of those To be forgotten! But my heart hath still A sense, a bounding pulse for hope and joy,