Page:The Statues in the Block and Other Poems (1881).djvu/114

108 They have sinned—they have erred—let the living stand— They have dared and rued—let thy loving hand Be laid on those brows that bravely face The death that shall wash them of all disgrace! Be swift with pity—O, late, too late! The tubes are levelled—the marksmen wait For the word of doom—the spring is pressed By the nervous finger—the sight is straight— "Make ready!"— Why falters the dread command? Why stare as affrighted the armèd band? Why lower the rifles from shoulder to hip, Why dies the word on the leader's lip, While the voice that was hard grows husky deep, And the face is a-tremble as if to weep?

The Chains on the brink of the cliff are lined; The living are bowed o'er the dead—they rise And they face the rifles with burning eyes;