Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1941-08-01 / 8. szám
10 TESTVÉRISÉG AMERICA AND THE KOSSUTH ERA — Amerika és a Kossuth-korszak — KOSSUTH Part I Hail, Kossuth, hail! brave champion of our age, Whom failure cannot daunt, nor folly’s rage, Who’ midst an angry storm of passions wild Still towers high, tho’ dread misfortune’s child. In deepest darkness wrapped, in gloom of night, Which spread their sable wings where’er the light Of youthful liberty a moment shone, The eyes of millions fix on thee alone. To them thou art still nature’s darling son, By fame and glory crowned, so nobly won, Which hostile voices’ clamour cannot reach, Tho’ numberless as pebbles on the beach. They still have faith and confidence in thee, In whom their last and only hope all see, Who now beneath the weight of fetters groan, By despots forged to prop a despot’s throne. Tho’ silently the iron chains are borne, Great Fredom’s cause seems hopeless and forlorn, A day of retribution is in store, Which tyrants will have to deplore; And all, who swayed by blind expediency, Gave aid and strength to their dark policy. Tho’ crime, successful now, may proudly stride, And ‘neath imperial robes its horrors hide, The triumph of the wicked lasts not long, It wants the sap of justice to grow strong, The worm of death its root is gnawing fast, It blossom, whithers, and the glory’s past. No structure reared on violance and blood, And tho’ its architect had understood The noble craft, and with profoundest skill Succeeded in embodying his will; Had lavished treasures vast to decorate The offspring of corruption’s vilest state; With marble pillars graced its lofty halls, And richest tapestry adorned the walls, With trophies of a former glarious time The chambers filled to hide his dastard crime: — Can hostile Fate’s avenging breath withstand, The base is tott’ring, for ’tis built on sand. The fabric proud in grand array today A despot’s might and fortune may display, And furnish fertile themes to servile scribes, To sycophants and sophistry’s base tribes, Who in brave emulation laud his rise, Extol the hero’s virtues to the skies, But on the morrow — lo! what magic might Transformed within the narrow space of night The wondrous scene, that dazzled mortal eyes,
