Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

1941-08-01 / 8. szám

TESTVÉRISÉG

15

So long as there remains among mankind A single feeling breast, a musing mind,

That can with joy sincere the Just and Great,

The Noble and Heroic contemplate.

The rays amitted by this sparkling shield,

Like sunbeams chase the haze, that veils the field, The flow’ry garden, meadow, cot, and mill,

The silv’ry rivulet and bushy hill,

Dispel the vapours foul which dare to rise And spot its surface, bright as purest skies,

Clear as the limpid wave from crystal spring,

And dazzling like the glare on lightning’s wing. These misty clouds may for awhile succeed Th’ unstable multitude astray to lead,

By shrouding in detraction’s robe of night Thy cause and aim, to hide them from their sight; But in the end will only serve to show How both in lustre’s brightest colours glow.

Pure, pure thy life, great noble man, must be,

When, to reproach, accuse and slander thee,

To hostile voices’ disappointed rage No course is left to fill its gaudy page:

But charges of forbearance on thy part,

When might was thine, but did not sway thy heart; Grave imputations of thy gentleness In th’ all-exciting moment of success,

When victory had on thy lofty brow

Her crown of glory placed with graceful bow;

When gates to regal power, thrown widely ope’, Invited thee to grasp ambition’s hope;

Or, to revile thy generosity,

Displayed to thy most cruel enemy,

When ’neath the blows of Hungary’s sons he lay Prostrate and worthless, like a lump of clay;

When in the hollow of thy hand was placed The destiny of Hapsburg’s house disgraced. . .

The most abhorrent race that e’er has hurled In deeds of horror terror on the world But to perdition doomed, or soon or late,

By just decrees of all-avenging fate.

But O! how sweet to suffer insult, shame,

A mountain load of fell abuse and blame,

For such a cause, which rivals glory’s name,

And acts, deserving of immortal fame.

The taunting voice sings lofty hymns of praise,

Thy deed on grandeur’s pinnacle to raise;

The mocker’s calumnies lose thorns and stings,

And on thine altar incense sweet he flings.

Such mock, such taunts, such blame and censure stern,

A challenge to aspire the like to earn

For brave and gen’rous hearts must e’er remain,

And can the purest, brightest gem not stain,

Among thy many glorious deeds of right,

That grace thy brief career as freedom’s knight;

Thy country’s liberator from the doom Of Hapsburg’s tyranny, and thraldom’s gloom!