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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


MARCH FORTH, EIGHTEEN FORTY-NINE! by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN

First Line: NIGHTLY MUST I MAKE MY CHOICE
Last Line: MARCH-MARCH FORTH, EIGHTEEN FORTY-NINE!

I.
Nightly must I make my choice
Between ill dreams and restless pillows,
But once in sleep I heard a voice,
Commingling with the roll of billows;
And, in accents deep, it gave Utterance to this mystic line
March Fourth, Eighteen Forty-nine!
Then sank silent as the grave
March Fourth, Eighteen Forty-nine,
Or, perchance, as I opine,
March forth, Eighteen Forty-nine!


II.
March Fourth, Eighteen Forty-nine,
The day has come, nor yet departed,
But it revokes my thraldom's ban;
And I, the faint, the feeble-hearted,
Shell and shadow of a man,
Arise, like one refreshed with wine.
A treasure of more golden worth
Than California's mine, is mine,
From this fourth day-from this day forth
This fourth March, Eighteen Forty- nine!


III.
March Fourth, Eighteen Forty- nine.
Oh, would that, standing up myself,
I could but see my country stand, too!
Would heaven that now the Irish Guelph
Would sink the past, and stretch the hand to
The wronged and suffering Ghibelline!
That north and south-that west and east,
Would this bright day at last combine!
But I will still cry out at least-
March forth, Eighteen Forty- nine!


IV.
March forth, Eighteen Forty-nine!
Yet not as marched thy predecessor,
With flashing glaive and cannon- peal .
Of no law, human or divine,
Shalt thou be, even in thought, transgressor.
Strike with amaze-but not with steel!
Blood enough has flowed, Heaven knows,
Even at freedom's holy shrine.
Not by blowings-up, or blows,
Shall conquer Eighteen Forty-nine!


V.
March forth, Eighteen Forty-nine
Achieve thy grand and glorious mission,
Illumining minds and softening hearts,
And cheering all who droop and pine,
And rescuing from the last perdition
Slaves worse than those of Barbary's marts!
March forth, undeterred by sneers,
From spectators asinine
Europe tracks thy way with cheers:
March forth, Eighteen Forty-nine!


VI.
March forth, Eighteen Forty- nine!
Myself will march with thee, God willing,
Through thorniest paths of toil and pain,
So stern resolve no more decline
From its high throne, or sloth come chilling
My spirit back to death again!
March, then, sustained by heaven above,
And blessed by man--the power is thine
To wake the world's repentant love,
March-March forth, Eighteen Forty- nine!




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