Page:Records of Woman.pdf/162

154

Then was her name a note that rung To rouse bold hearts from sleep, Her memory, as a banner flung Forth by the Baltic deep; Her grief, a bitter vial pour'd To sanctify th' avenger's sword.

And the crown'd eagle spread again His pinion to the sun; And the strong land shook off its chain— So was the triumph won! But wo for earth, where sorrow's tone Still blends with victory's!—She was gone!*