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emilie plater.
For this had dreams of high endeavour,
Of triumph in the stormy strife,
Drowned with their trumpet-notes for ever
The music of a woman's life?
Of triumph in the stormy strife,
Drowned with their trumpet-notes for ever
The music of a woman's life?
Thy country, glorious, brave, and fair,
Thine all of life, thine only love,—
For her alone thy constant prayer
Rose burning to the throne above!
Thine all of life, thine only love,—
For her alone thy constant prayer
Rose burning to the throne above!
Her name alone thy heart's depths stirred,
And filled thy soul with warlike pride,
Which gave the maiden strength to gird
The falchion on her tender side.
And filled thy soul with warlike pride,
Which gave the maiden strength to gird
The falchion on her tender side.
Yet in thy last hours, dark and lonely,
Thou, so devoted, faithful, brave,
Didst ask, in sorrowing meekness, only
Of thy adoring land—a grave.
Thou, so devoted, faithful, brave,
Didst ask, in sorrowing meekness, only
Of thy adoring land—a grave.
How was thy woman's soul betrayed,
When death's seal on thy brow was set!
Then thou didst weep above the blade,
So oft with life-blood vainly wet!
When death's seal on thy brow was set!
Then thou didst weep above the blade,
So oft with life-blood vainly wet!
