Classic and Contemporary Poetry
STANZAS TO THE MEMORY OF THE SPANISH PATRIOTS IN RESISTING REGENCY AND THE DUKE OF ANGOULEME, by THOMAS CAMPBELL Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Brave men who at the trocadero fell Last Line: But vengeance is behind, and justice is to come. Subject(s): Napoleonic Wars; Spain | ||||||||
BRAVE men who at the Trocadero fell -- Beside your cannons conquered not, though slain, There is a victory in dying well For Freedom, -- and ye have not died in vain; For come what may, there shall be hearts in Spain To honor, ay embrace your martyred lot, Cursing the Bigot's and the Bourbon's chain, And looking on your graves, though trophied not, As holier hallowed ground than priests could make the spot! What thought your case be baffled -- freemen cast In dungeons -- dragged to death, or forced to flee; Hope is not withered in affliction's blast -- The patriot's blood 's the seed of Freedom's tree; And short your orgies of revenge shall be, Cowled demons of the Inquisitorial cell! Earth shudders at your victory, -- for ye Are worse than common fiends from Heaven that fell, The baser, ranker sprung, Autochthones of Hell! Go to your bloody rites again -- bring back The hall of horrors and the assessor's pen, Recording answers shrieked upon the rack; Smile o'er the gaspings of spine-broken men; -- Preach, perpetrate damnation in your den; -- Then let your altars, ye blasphemers! peal With thanks to Heaven, that let you loose again, To practise deeds with torturing fire and steel No eye may search -- no tongue may challenge or reveal! Yet laugh not in your carnival of crime, Too proudly, ye oppressors! -- Spain was free, Her soil has felt the foot-prints, and her clime Been winnowed by the wings of Liberty; And these even parting scatter as they flee Thoughts -- influences, to live in hearts unborn, Opinions that shall wrench the prison-key From Persecution -- show her mask off-torn, And tramp her bloated head beneath the foot of Scorn. Glory to them that die in this great cause; Kings, Bigots, can inflict no brand of shame, Or shape of death, to shroud them from applause: -- No! -- manglers of the martyr's earthly frame; Your hangman fingers can not touch his fame. Still in your prostrate land there shall be some Proud hearts, the shrines of Freedom's vestal flame. Long trains of ill may pass unheeded, dumb, But vengeance is behind, and justice is to come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR AL-TAYIB SALIH by KHALED MATTAWA MESSAGES AS TRANSLATION by MICHAEL S. HARPER THE VALLEY OF THE FALLEN by CAROLYN KIZER ON GREDOS by MIGUEL DE UNAMUNO SPANISH SONNETS: 1 by JOHN UPDIKE SPANISH SONNETS: 5 by JOHN UPDIKE SPAIN, TAKE THIS CUP FROM ME by CESAR VALLEJO BATTLE OF THE BALTIC by THOMAS CAMPBELL DOWNFALL OF POLAND [FALL OF WARSAW, 1794] by THOMAS CAMPBELL |
|