Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1941-12-01 / 12. szám
TESTVÉRISÉG 19 Lo! a light, prophetic rising From the bodies of the slain, Illumines far the battle front, And lights the battle plain; The outward robe and veil it is Of spirits soaring high, As, marching from the fatal field, They travel to the sky. God! in thy mercy bless their dust, And cherish long their fame, By blotting out the despot race, The despots’ power and name. Our sword, our shield, our fortress be — To victory lead the way, Or bury in one bloody grave The war-wolf and his prey. Harrogate, Aug. 24 G. Linnaeus Banks Prom: “The Leeds Times” Reprinted from "The Birmingiham Journal” Sept. 6, 1851 ★ KOSSUTH’S DREAM Once in the circle of the year When flowers the summer fields bestrew — And every grave-mound far and near Lies glittering in the moonlight dew, The maids of Hungary arise, When midnight’s solemn hour hath toll’d, And wander forth with downcast eyes Communion with the dead to hold. A low-voiced prayer to God they breathe Beside the grave of each and all, But place a rose or cypress-wreath O’er them who for their country fall. One night — the mystic hour had come To seek the dead — the wandering breeze Was sighing o’er each turfy home And whispering through the churchyard trees. When forth from vales and hamlet low, And peopled cities old and wide, I saw the white-robed maidens slow Toward the silent churchyard glide. A cypress-wreath was in each hand, But no rose shed its rich perfumes, And solemnly the maiden-band Filed in and laid them on the tombs. The prayers were said, the task was done, The voices on the breeze expired, And slow the maidens, one by one, Home through the church-yard gates retired.
