Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/157

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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 happy be, The last in which the courage and the power Of truth's high voice may reach you! Who may stand As man to man, as friend to friend, before The 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 now 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