Then it was fine to see Tom flame, O' sudden to spoil Tom's speech. to see, When Tyranny should be sped; "She's coming, she 's coming!" said he; "Courage, boys! wait and see! Freedom's ahead!" But Tom was little and weak; The coughing took him. Of his chat among us ceased, And we made a purse all round, His pain was sorry to see, Yet there, on his poor sick-bed, "She's coming, in spite of me! Courage, and wait!" cried he, "Freedom's ahead!" A little before he died, To see his passion! "Bring me a paper!" he cried, And then to study it tried In his old sharp fashion; And, with eyeballs glittering, His look on me he bent, And said that savage thing Of the lords of the Parliament. Then, darkening, smiling on me, "What matter if one be dead? She's coming, at least!" said he; "Courage, boys! wait and see! Freedom's ahead!" Ay, now Tom Dunstan 's cold, Scarce a story is told! And we hear a voice of death, And the tallow burns all day, In the thick smoke of our breath; Ay, here in the dark sit we, While wearily, wearily, We hear him call from the dead; "She's coming, she's coming!" said he; "Freedom's ahead!" How long, O Lord, how long Doth thy handmaid linger? JURY the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation, To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. II. Where shall we lay the man whom we deplore? Here, in streaming London's central roar. Let the sound of those he wrought for, And the feet of those he fought for, III. Lead out the pageant: sad and slow, Let the long, long procession go, And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow, IV. Mourn, for to us he seems the last, O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fallen at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew ! Such was he whom we deplore. The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. The great World-victor's victor will be seen no more. |