Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1941-09-01 / 9. szám
TESTVÉRISÉG 17 KOSSUTH An Impromptu Listen to the Patriot warrior! Let him fill your inmost souls, With a burning love for Freedom, While the blood-stained Danube rolls; Turn, then, home your sickened spirits — Gaze with vision holy, clear! And a work will rise before ye, Kot less grand that it lies near! At your very door it lieth, While you strain your sight so far! From your mother-earth it crieth. Blood-stained with Oppression’s war! Cheer the stranger with your kindness — Let him to your heartstones come! But forget not, in your blindness, Groaning milions crushed at home! Zdenko Prom: “The National Era" Washiingiton, Jaw. 29, 1852. * KOSSUTH Death in the battle is not death Deep, deep may seem the mortal groan, Yet sweeter than an infant’s breath Is Honor’s, on that field alone. Where Kossuth called his Spirits forth Aloft from Danaw’s heaving breast; They quelled the South, they shook the North, They sank by fraud, not strength repres’t. If Freedom’s sacred fire lies quench’t, O England! was it not by thee? Ere from such hands the sword was wrench’t Thine was the power to shield the free. Bussells erewhile might raise their crest Proud as the older of our land, Although I find but in the best The embroidered glove of Sidney’s hand. Bachel may mourn her children now; From higher source her glory springs, Where Shakespeare crowns Southampton’s brow Above the reach of gaze of kings. Bussells! where? where? To waver high Faction the slender twig may place, And cover, when that twig shall die, With plumes as dark its dark disgrace.
