Fraternity-Testvériség, 1941 (19. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1941-07-01 / 7. szám
10 TESTVÉRISÉG AMERICA AND THE KOSSUTH ERA — Amerika és a Kossuth=korszak — THE SONG OF THE KOSSUTH FESTIVAL A Magyar brave, from a distant land, To all our own grew dear, With Liberty’s pen and sword in hand, He came to bless her here! He threw around the glorious rays Of the Sun which lights the soul, And scorched old Tyranny with a blaze Of heart beyond control! He knew his horse — that was the pen — Would curvet him away; And then he proudly knew again The Sword would have its day! The splendid Pen perhaps was drowned Within its inky wave, But then the flashing Sword was found To battle for the brave! Kossuth had got a native land, His dearest and his own! True Liberty upon its strand Would be to him his throne! He sought to gain it by the brain — To gain it by the glaive; And, though his valour fought in vain, How beautiful! how brave! Kossuth, when sadness crowned his fate, Fell to a dungeon wall. He knew the way, he found the gate, And groaned at Slavery’s call! Our British watchword set him free, E’en from the Sultan’s breast; Over the bounding waves came he, To thank us, and be blest. Now, — with our native love, Now, — with our native fire, Let the proud poean ring above, That quenches the land’s ire! Tremendously let British voice Kesound on British shore; Its shout shall make Kossuth rejoice In LIBERTY once more! Anonymous. From: “Tthe Lady’s Newspaper” November 1, 1851.
