Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/157

Wherein the land may rest. My king, this hour
(Solemn as that which to the voyager's eye
In far and dim perspective doth unfold
A new and boundless world) may happy be,
The last in which the courage and the power
Of truth's high voice may reach you! Who may stand
As man to man, as friend to friend, before
The ancestral throne of monarchs? Or perchance
Toils, such as tame the loftiest to endurance,
Henceforth may wait us here! But howsoe'er
This be, the lessons now from sufferings past
Befit all time, all change. Oh! by the blood,
The free, the generous blood of Portugal,
Shed on the sands of Afric,—by the names
Which, with their centuries of high renown,
There died, extinct for ever,—let not those
Who stood in hope and glory at our side
Here, on this very sea-beach, whence they passed
To fall, and leave no trophy,—let them not
Be soon, be e'er forgotten! for their fate