MikeLigalig.com

AGUINALDO
by Shadwell, Bertrand

When arms and numbers both have failed
To make the hunted patriot yield,
Nor proffered riches have prevailed
To tempt him to forsake the field,
By spite and baffled rage beguiled,
Strike at his mother and his child
.
O land where freedom loved to dwell,
Which shook'st the despot on his throne,
And o'er the beating floods of hell
Hope's beacon to the world hast shown,
How art thou fallen from thy place!
O thing of shame!—O foul disgrace!
Thy home was built upon the height
Above the murky clouds beneath,
In the blue heaven's freest light,
Thy sword flashed ever from its sheath,
The weak and the oppressed to save—
To smite the tyrant—free the slave.
Thy place was glorious—sublime.
What devil tempts thee to descend
To conquest, robbery and crime?
O shameful fate! Is this the end?
Thy hands have now the damning stain
Of human blood—for love of gain.
With weak hypocrisy's thin veil,
Seek not in vain to blind thine eyes;
Nor shall deceitful prayers prevail.
Pray not—for fear the dead should rise
From 'neath their conquered country's sod
And cry against thee unto God.
Bertrand Shadwell.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg