Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/144

144 

This hand shall strew thy thorny road With dear affection's filial flowers, One God,—one people,—one abode,— One grave,—one burial shall be ours.

 

Seek not of man with light applause to pay The priceless guerdon of a well-spent day,— Wait not for him to judge the generous deed, But spread the scroll, and bid thy Conscience read. Rest on thy couch,—recline within thy cell, And ask that silent one, if all be well?— Then if she smile, receive the rapturous meed,— Nor boast the motive,—nor proclaim the deed, Wait till the day of doom, the hour of fate, Even as the expecting Jews for their Messiah wait.

 

Clime of the unprotected brave! Clime of the ancient, and the free! Whose blood stain'd banners boldly wave Mid storms that rock the Ægean sea, With arm supine, and careless thought Why gaze we on thy conflict dire? To win that prize our fathers bought, Why tamely see thy sons expire? 