Poems (Ford)/Poland
POLAND.
Oh, Poland, once more is thy proud soul awakened,
Once more through thy valleys war's shrill trumpet rings;
The free, martial spirit that time can not conquer,
Leaps forth from the graves of thy old warrior-kings.
Once more through thy valleys war's shrill trumpet rings;
The free, martial spirit that time can not conquer,
Leaps forth from the graves of thy old warrior-kings.
Again the true sons of brave sires have arisen
To sever thy fetters or perish for thee;
The lash of the despot, the torture and prison,
At last have aroused them to die or be free.
To sever thy fetters or perish for thee;
The lash of the despot, the torture and prison,
At last have aroused them to die or be free.
From Cracow's gray tombs, where the bones of the mighty
Are crumbling in silence to dust and decay,
The voice of the past speaks of long-faded glory,
And thrills the defenders of Poland to-day.
Are crumbling in silence to dust and decay,
The voice of the past speaks of long-faded glory,
And thrills the defenders of Poland to-day.
From Warsaw's red field, where the spirits of heroes
Went out in their life-blood, in darkness and gloom,
The war-cry that bursts forth for Poland and Freedom,
Might bid Kosciusko come back from the tomb.
Went out in their life-blood, in darkness and gloom,
The war-cry that bursts forth for Poland and Freedom,
Might bid Kosciusko come back from the tomb.
From castle and cottage the patriots gather
To meet the oppressor in war's fearful strife,
To strike once again for the rights of their nation.
For homes and for altars, for freedom and life.
To meet the oppressor in war's fearful strife,
To strike once again for the rights of their nation.
For homes and for altars, for freedom and life.
Arise, Sobieski! awake from thy slumber,
Or send back thy spirit to lead, as of yore,
The conquering arms of thy country, and crown her
With victory's laurels—a nation once more.
Or send back thy spirit to lead, as of yore,
The conquering arms of thy country, and crown her
With victory's laurels—a nation once more.
Oh, birth-place of martyrs to God and to Freedom,
The souls of the heroes who died for thy right
Are surely imploring the Sovereign of armies
To smile on thy efforts in Liberty's fight.
The souls of the heroes who died for thy right
Are surely imploring the Sovereign of armies
To smile on thy efforts in Liberty's fight.
I love thee, O Poland, thou ancient of nations,
Twin sister of Erin in suffering and faith;
Like her, through long ages of fierce persecution,
The Cross thou hast clung to in suffering and death.
Twin sister of Erin in suffering and faith;
Like her, through long ages of fierce persecution,
The Cross thou hast clung to in suffering and death.
God bless thee, thou land long oppressed, yet unconquered!
May Freedom soon smile on thy sanctified sod;
No more may the dust of thy martyrs and heroes
By foot of invader or tyrant be trod.
May Freedom soon smile on thy sanctified sod;
No more may the dust of thy martyrs and heroes
By foot of invader or tyrant be trod.