I THOU more than poet, Freedom's laureate, Byron! Although some tyrant hand should blot All pages that to her are consecrate By loyal bards -- thus doomed to be forgot -- Who should despair if thine were quenched not? Oh, for thy voice when the world's heart is wrung At Honor made a barrack-jest and plot! To what invective hadst thou given tongue! Mourner of Rome, what dirge for Belgium hadst thou sung! II What of @3her@1 children ravaged from her heart -- Those cities proud of lore and fair of mien: Liege, that cradled Charlemagne; that mart Of many seas, rich Antwerp; old Malines; And royal Brussels seated like a queen; Bruges the melodious, and flowery Ghent, And wise Louvain? . . . Oh, Byron, hadst thou seen The tears and terror, who could be content By lesser song than thine that grief and blame be blent? III Revered is Valor -- ay, but Honor more. A score of centuries doth History save Caesar's "brave Belgians": for how many a score Shall live the word these to the Teuton gave When they must choose dishonor or the grave! They knew before they took Despair to wife, Man's mind and not his master makes him slave. What theme for thee, ere, Singer of Great Strife, To Belgium thou hadst poured libation of thy life! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PSALM 104: THE MAJESTY AND MERCY OF GOD by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE OLD LEM by STERLING ALLEN BROWN JEALOUSY by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE BROWNING AT ASOLO by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON DICK, A MAGGOT by JONATHAN SWIFT VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 5. NIGHT SONG AT AMALFI by SARA TEASDALE LITTLE BOATIE'; A SLUMBER SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD by HENRY VAN DYKE |