Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MARTYR OF BRUSSELS, by HENRY CHAPPELL

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THE MARTYR OF BRUSSELS, by            
First Line: Rest you, sweet martyr, nobly have you lain
Last Line: "and hear from lips divine, ""abide with me."
Subject(s): Death; Heaven; Martyrs; Rest; Dead, The; Paradise

REST you, sweet martyr, nobly have you lain
The last great gift upon your country's shrine;
Ours now the scalding tears and ours the pain,
The Victor's crown and robe of light are thine.

Rest you, sweet martyr, Pity's holy tear
Shone in your eye alike for foe or friend;
Yours were the hands that calmed the frenzied fear
Of fever dreams, or soothed a bitter end.

Rest you, sweet maid, your crime is lovelier far
In sight of Heaven, than lip-flung prayer from those,
Who, in their wanton pride, God's image mar,
And bid the life He gave, untimely close.

Alone, a woman, Christlike pitying all.
Your noble race condemned you, 'twas the crime,
That you were of the blood they cannot thrall,
That o'er the King of Terrors rose sublime.

Scarce can I school my pen to sober vein,
The words flow red, as is my heart within;
Yet might it grieve you should I loose the rein
Of just invective on this dastard sin.

Rest you, sweet maid, not yet can I depose
The hate and bitterness you cast aside,
As did thy Master, where the cross uprose,
Praying for those who slew Him, as He died.

Rest, rest you well; our hearts enshrine your name
The weary journey o'er, the spirit free
To wing above this earth of guilt and shame
And hear from lips Divine, "Abide with Me."

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