Life of John Boyle O'Reilly — Chapter 10

Haggard and broken and seared with pain,They seek the remembered friends and places;Men shuddering turn, and gaze againAt the deep-drawn lines on their altered faces.

She offers a bribe—All, God above!Behold the price of the desecration:The hearts she has tortured for Irish loveShe brings as a bribe to the Irish nation!

We know her—our Sister! Come on the storm!God send it soon and sudden upon her:The race she has scattered and sought to deformShall laugh as she drinks the black dishonor.

Tear down the crape from the column! Let the shaft stand white and fair!Be silent the wailing music—there is no death in the air!We come not in plaint or sorrow—no tears may dim our sight:We dare not weep o'er the epitaph we have not dared to write.

*******He teaches the secret of manhood—the watchword of those who aspire—That men must follow freedom though it lead through blood and fire;That sacrifice is the bitter draught which freemen still must quaff—That every patriotic life is the patriot's epitaph.

I do not know the meaning of the sign,But bend before its power, as a reed bendsWhen the black tornado fills the valley to the lips.Three times in twenty years its shape has comeIn lines of fire on the black veil of mystery;At first, tho' strange, it seemed familiar,And lingered on the mind as if at rest;The second time it flashed a thrill came, too.For supernature spoke, or tried to speak;The third time, like a blow upon the eyes,It stood before me, as a page might say"Read, read,—and do not call for other warning."

I do not know,—O Mystery, the wordIs lost on senses too impure. I standAnd shrink subdued before the voice that speaks,And know not that its word is light or gloom.

John Boyle O'Reilly.