Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1941-11-01 / 11. szám
16 TESTVÉRISÉG Yet, though the people’s wave, rolled hack, hath left on every shore, Strewn in disastrous wreck, the hopes that crested it before, The tide is rising in the rear! (like a host on its mighty track, Unstayed, though its tirailleurs in front be hurled in tumult back,) Swollen with a thousand, thousand wrongs, and bitter with hoarded ire, Where be the Ivnutes from their lofty seats shall bid that sea retire? The spirit of Hunyady, (2) it walks the earth once more; But with a range and a high emprize, beyond all fame of yore. This hero stands alone, amidst the strange and jealous lands, Battling their errors and self-love, with a dauntless front he stands — Flashing the lightnings of the truth against the souls of men, And holding millions the captives of his conquering tongue and pen. Kossuth! thy country’s Beacon-light — the Warder upon the tower — Voice of the land in council sage — hope in its darkened hour! Raised on the Magyar bucklers, chief, thou didst not fear to face The higher, deadlier perils of that storm-encircled place, While through the roar of charging hosts thy name was a battle-cry —. (3) There where thy “unnamed demigods” (4) rushed joyfully to die! (1) This itirutih was deplorably shown by /the Viennese, the Parisians, the Berliners and the citizens of other places. They fought bravely enough; but when it was a question of cool common sense and caution, they were helpless — feeble as a rope of sand. (2) In the 15th century, John Hunyady, the renowned Champion of the Hungarian monarchy, stood between Christendom and the terrible power of the Turks. He gave Mahomet the First a memorable overthrow “by the walls of high Belgrade,” in 1456. His son, Mathew Corvinus, became king of Hungary. (3) “Éljen Kossuth!” was literally the cry of the Hungarian soldiers when they charged. (4) In one of his most sublime bursts of eloquence, Kossuth speaks of those Hungarians, who without hope of being remembered for their heroism went courageously to death in battle as “unnamed demigods.” O, far above all vulgar fame of the soldier and his sword! Tliine is the boast of a pure renown — of a glory undeplored! Thus do we hail thee with our hearts, thus shalt thou stand sublime In freedom’s holy Valhalla with the heroes of all time; With Washington and Wallace wight a niche is left for thee, With Tell and the Greek Leonidas, and the deathless Maccabee! Man of the Era! — nuncio-voice of the world-embracing Thought Which with that Era once vas born; and the cold world heeded not. What thought the “new command” it speaks — fairly worth all the Ten —
