Poems by Denis Florence MacCarthy Part 23

Look! the nations are awaking, Every chain that bound them burst!

At the crystal fountains slaking With parched lips their fever thirst!

Ignorance the demon, fleeing, Leaves unlocked the fount they sip; Wilt thou not, thou wretched being, Stoop and cool thy burning lip?

History's lessons, if thou'lt read 'em, All proclaim this truth to thee: Knowledge is the price of freedom, Know thyself, and thou art free!

Know, O man! thy proud vocation, Stand erect, with calm, clear brow-- Happy! happy were our nation, If thou hadst that knowledge now!

Know thy wretched, sad condition, Know the ills that keep thee so; Knowledge is the sole physician, Thou wert healed if thou didst know!

Those who crush, and scorn, and slight thee, Those to whom thou once wouldst kneel, Were the foremost then to right thee, Didst thou but feel as thou shouldst feel!

Not as beggars lowly bending, Not in sighs, and groans, and tears, But a voice of thunder sending Through thy tyrant brother's ears!

Tell him he is not thy master, Tell him of man's common lot, Feel life has but one disaster, To be a slave, and know it not!

Didst but prize what knowledge giveth, Didst but know how blest is he Who in Freedom's presence liveth, Thou wouldst die, or else be free!

Round about he looks in gladness, Joys in heaven, and earth, and sea, Scarcely heaves a sigh of sadness, Save in thoughts of such as thee!

THE VOICE AND PEN.

Oh! the orator's voice is a mighty power, As it echoes from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, And the fearless pen has more sway o'er men Than the murderous cannon's roar!

What burst the chain far over the main, And brighten'd the captive's den?

'Twas the fearless pen and the voice of power, Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

Hurrah!

Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

The tyrant knaves who deny man's rights, And the cowards who blanch with fear, Exclaim with glee: "No arms have ye, Nor cannon, nor sword, nor spear!

Your hills are ours--with our forts and towers We are masters of mount and glen!"

Tyrants, beware! for the arms we bear Are the Voice and the fearless Pen!

Hurrah!

Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

Though your hors.e.m.e.n stand with their bridles in hand, And your sentinels walk around!

Though your matches flare in the midnight air, And your brazen trumpets sound!

Oh! the orator's tongue shall be heard among These listening warrior men; And they'll quickly say: "Why should we slay Our friends of the Voice and Pen?"

Hurrah!

Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

When the Lord created the earth and sea, The stars and the glorious sun, The G.o.dhead spoke, and the universe woke And the mighty work was done!

Let a word be flung from the orator's tongue, Or a drop from the fearless pen, And the chains accursed asunder burst That fettered the minds of men!

Hurrah!

Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

Oh! these are the swords with which we fight, The arms in which we trust, Which no tyrant hand will dare to brand, Which time cannot dim or rust!

When these we bore we triumphed before, With these we'll triumph again!

And the world will say no power can stay The Voice and the fearless Pen!

Hurrah!

Hurrah! for the Voice and Pen!

"CEASE TO DO EVIL--LEARN TO DO WELL."[105]

Oh! thou whom sacred duty hither calls, Some glorious hours in freedom's cause to dwell, Read the mute lesson on thy prison walls, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well."

If haply thou art one of genius vast, Of generous heart, of mind sublime and grand, Who all the spring-time of thy life has pa.s.s'd Battling with tyrants for thy native land, If thou hast spent thy summer as thy prime, The serpent brood of bigotry to quell, Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

If thy great heart beat warmly in the cause Of outraged man, whate'er his race might be, If thou hast preached the Christian's equal laws, And stayed the lash beyond the Indian sea!

If at thy call a nation rose sublime, If at thy voice seven million fetters fell,-- Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

If thou hast seen thy country's quick decay, And, like the prophet, raised thy saving hand, And pointed out the only certain way To stop the plague that ravaged o'er the land!

If thou hast summoned from an alien clime Her banished senate here at home to dwell: Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

Or if, perchance, a younger man thou art, Whose ardent soul in throbbings doth aspire, Come weal, come woe, to play the patriot's part In the bright footsteps of thy glorious sire If all the pleasures of life's youthful time Thou hast abandoned for the martyr's cell, Do thou repent thee of thy hideous crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

Or art thou one whom early science led To walk with Newton through the immense of heaven, Who soared with Milton, and with Mina bled, And all thou hadst in freedom's cause hast given?

Oh! fond enthusiast--in the after time Our children's children of thy worth shall tell-- England proclaims thy honesty a crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

Or art thou one whose strong and fearless pen Roused the Young Isle, and bade it dry its tears, And gathered round thee ardent, gifted men, The hope of Ireland in the coming years?

Who dares in prose and heart-awakening rhyme, Bright hopes to breathe and bitter truths to tell?

Oh! dangerous criminal, repent thy crime, "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

"Cease to do evil"--ay! ye madmen, cease!

Cease to love Ireland--cease to serve her well; Make with her foes a foul and fatal peace, And quick will ope your darkest, dreariest cell.

"Learn to do well"--ay! learn to betray, Learn to revile the land in which you dwell England will bless you on your altered way "Cease to do evil--learn to do well!"

105. This inscription is on the front of Richmond Penitentiary, Dublin, in which O'Connell and the other political prisoners were confined in the year 1844.

THE LIVING LAND.

We have mourned and sighed for our buried pride,[106]

We have given what nature gives, A manly tear o'er a brother's bier, But now for the Land that lives!

He who pa.s.sed too soon, in his glowing noon, The hope of our youthful band, From heaven's blue wall doth seem to call "Think, think of your Living Land!

I dwell serene in a happier scene, Ye dwell in a Living Land!"

Yes! yes! dear shade, thou shalt be obeyed, We must spend the hour that flies, In no vain regret for the sun that has set, But in hope for another to rise; And though it delay with its guiding ray, We must each, with his little brand, Like sentinels light through the dark, dark night, The steps of our Living Land.

She needeth our care in the chilling air-- Our old, dear Living Land!

Yet our b.r.e.a.s.t.s will throb, and the tears will throng To our eyes for many a day, For an eagle in strength and a lark in song Was the spirit that pa.s.sed away.

Though his heart be still as a frozen rill, And pulseless his glowing hand, We must struggle the more for that old green sh.o.r.e He was making a Living Land.

By him we have lost, at whatever the cost, She must be a Living Land!

A Living Land, such as Nature plann'd, When she hollowed our harbours deep, When she bade the grain wave o'er the plain, And the oak wave over the steep: When she bade the tide roll deep and wide, From its source to the ocean strand, Oh! it was not to slaves she gave these waves, But to sons of a Living Land!

Sons who have eyes and hearts to prize The worth of a Living Land!

Oh! when shall we lose the hostile hues, That have kept us so long apart?