Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/237

Rh Heaven help us in this awful hour!

For now might Faith decay.

Now might we doubt God's guardian power

And curse instead of pray.

He will not even let us die,

Not let us die at home;

The foe must see our soldiers fly

As they had feared the tomb!

Because we dare not stay to gain

Those longed-for, glorious graves,

We dare not shrink from slavery's chain

To leave our children slaves!

But when this scene of awful woe

Has neared its final close,

As God forsook our armies, so

May He forsake our foes!