Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LAND BETRAYED, 1881-3, by STEPHEN EDWARD DE VERE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAND BETRAYED, 1881-3, by                    
First Line: Near to the grave's mysterious brink
Last Line: To penitence and suffering.
Subject(s): Nationalism - Ireland


NEAR to the grave's mysterious brink,
Weary, weary, sighing for rest,
I pause awhile, ere yet I sink
Once more into my mother's breast.

In youth I sought a sterner rest, --
To labour, labouring not in vain,
To help the friendless and distrest,
Asking no guerdon save the gain

Of conscience clear, and gratitude,
And calm content. Long years went by;
I saw but evil spring from good
And dear-bought sacrifices lie

The sport of fools, the scoff of knaves,
Dead ere they blossomed, barren, blighted,
By greedy dupes, and willing slaves,
Wasted, unhonoured, unrequited.

My country, in thy jocund youth
Nursling of faith, of love, and song,
Thou wert not made for shame or ruth,
For trampled right, triumphant wrong.

Thy hope was high, thy heart was true,
The fire of freedom lit thine eye;
Thy homes were pure as morning dew;
Reverence was thine, and charity.

But glozing tongues turned love to hate,
And honour died, and faith decayed; --
Land self-abased, self-immolate,
By thy best virtues worst betrayed!

Thy sun is set in gloom and storm:
Piled waters of a barren deep,
And the pale tempest's spectral form
Above his tomb their night-watch keep.

Farewell! if, bursting prison caves,
That Orb once more shall flame in air,
Trampling with light the conquered waves,
And scattering from his wind-tossed hair

A myriad diamond chains, -- bow down
Thy humbled head to Him, the King,
Who chastens, yet vouchsafes a crown
To Penitence and Suffering.





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