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

1941-09-01 / 9. szám

18

TESTVÉRISÉG

Drive the drear phantom from my sight,

O Kossuth! Round our wintry shore Spread broad thy strong and healthy light,

And I will tread these weeds no more.

Each, be he soldier, sage, or bard.

Must breast and cross the sea of strife,

Ere swells the hymn, his high reward,

Sung from the Book of Life.

What casket holds it, in what shrine

Begem’d with pearl and priceless stone?

The treasury is itself divine...

The poet’s breast... ’tis there alone.

Walter Savage Landor

From: The Last Fruit Off an Old Tree, London, 1853 Also: “Litte! Vs Living Age,” Boston, January 26, 1850

*

TO LOUIS KOSSUTH

I

The truth must triumph, be thou therefore bold And resolute, though fortune seem to frown,

Thy cause is only for the time cast down,

And all that it hath lost, a thousand fold Shall be restored in ages to come:

The fire of freedom hath not yet grown. cold,

The awful voice of justice is not dumb;

I hear glad voices floating o’er Time’s sea;

That land in whose behoof thou hast enroll’d Thy name among the martyrs, yet shall be Partaker of the blessing, great and free;

The death-knell of oppression shall be toll’ed By the strong hand of outraged liberty,

And all the honest praise be given to thee.

II

Right royal spirit, we have done our best

To greet thee fitly, could we have done more It had been blythely done, for ne’er before Hath this dark-looming city of the west Been visited from any foreign shore By such a welcome, so revered, a guest;

Each true man’s heart was bounding in his breast With honest rapture as thy car roll’d by,

By tears, warm tears, that stood in many an eye;

Ah! from the heart’s full chambers came that cry Of gazing thousands, who felt glad and blest To circle thee, even in adversity,

Thou great High Priest of sacred Liberty.

David Holt

From: Janus, Lake Sonnets, etc. and Other Poems

By David Holt, London, 1853