Читать книгу The Complete Poetical Works of James Russell Lowell - James Russell Lowell - Страница 227

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A race of nobles may die out,

A royal line may leave no heir;

Wise Nature sets no guards about

Her pewter plate and wooden ware.

But they fail not, the kinglier breed,

Who starry diadems attain;

To dungeon, axe, and stake succeed

Heirs of the old heroic strain.

The zeal of Nature never cools,

Nor is she thwarted of her ends;

When gapped and dulled her cheaper tools,

Then she a saint and prophet spends.

Land of the Magyars! though it be

The tyrant may relink his chain,

Already thine the victory,

As the just Future measures gain.

Thou hast succeeded, thou hast won

The deathly travail's amplest worth;

A nation's duty thou hast done,

Giving a hero to our earth.

And he, let come what will of woe

Hath saved the land he strove to save;

No Cossack hordes, no traitor's blow,

Can quench the voice shall haunt his grave.

'I Kossuth am: O Future, thou

That clear'st the just and blott'st the vile,

O'er this small dust in reverence bow,

Remembering what I was erewhile.

'I was the chosen trump wherethrough

Our God sent forth awakening breath;

Came chains? Came death? The strain He blew

Sounds on, outliving chains and death.'