THE APPEAL.
153
Clasping with its links of gold,
Man to man in one strong hold?
To! if the golden links ye sever,
Ye shall make your heart's flesh quiver;
And wheresoe'er the links are reft,
There, shall be a blood-stain left.
To earth's remotest rock repair,
Ye shall find a vulture there:
Though for others sorrowing not,
Your own tears shall still be hot:
Though ye play a lonely part;
Though ye bear an iron heart;—
Woe, like Echetus, still must
Grind your iron into dust.
But children of our Britain, ye
Rend not man's chain of sympathy;
To those who sit in woe and night,
Denying tears and hiding light.
