Page:Songs, Legends, and Ballads.djvu/149

Rh Sons of the Old Land, mark the story—
 * Mother and son in the final test:

Weeping she sits in her darkened glory,
 * Holding her dead to her stricken breast.

Only the dead on her knees are lying—
 * Ah, poor mother beneath the Cross!

Strength is won by the constant trying,
 * Crowns are gemmed by the tears of loss!

Sons of the Old Land, mark the story—
 * Mother and son to each other true:

She called, and he answered, old and hoary,
 * And gave her his life as a man should do.

She may weep—but for us no weeping:
 * Tears are vain till the work is done;

Tears for her—but for us the keeping
 * Our hearts as true as her faithful son.