Читать книгу War Poetry of the South - Various - Страница 19

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Is there, then, no hope for the nations?

Must the record of Time be the same?

And shall History, in all her narrations,

Still close each last chapter in shame?

Shall the valor which grew to be glorious,

Prove the shame, as the pride of a race:

And a people, for ages victorious,

Through the arts of the chapman, grow base?

Greek, Hebrew, Assyrian, and Roman,

Each strides o'er the scene and departs!

How valiant their deeds 'gainst the foeman,

How wondrous their virtues and arts!

Rude valor, at first, when beginning,

The nation through blood took its name;

Then the wisdom, which hourly winning

New heights in its march, rose to Fame!

How noble the tale for long ages,

Blending Beauty with courage and might!

What Heroes, what Poets, and Sages,

Made eminent stars for each height!

While their people, with reverence ample.

Brought tribute of praise to the Great,

Whose wisdom and virtuous example,

Made virtue the pride of the State!

Ours, too, was as noble a dawning,

With hopes of the Future as high:

Great men, each a star of the morning,

Taught us bravely to live and to die!

We fought the long fight with our foeman,

And through trial--well-borne--won a name,

Not less glorious than Grecian or Roman,

And worthy as lasting a fame!

Shut the Book! We must open another!

O Southron! if taught by the Past,

Beware, when thou choosest a brother,

With what ally thy fortunes are cast!

Beware of all foreign alliance,

Of their pleadings and pleasings beware,

Better meet the old snake with defiance,

Than find in his charming a snare!