YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes <br />With firmer soul, yet labour to regain <br />Our ancient freedom; else 'twere worse than vain <br />To gather round the bier these festal shows. <br />A garland fashioned of the pure white rose <br />Becomes not one whose father is a slave: <br />Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave! <br />These venerable mountains now enclose <br />A people sunk in apathy and fear. <br />If this endure, farewell, for us, all good! <br />The awful light of heavenly innocence <br />Will fail to illuminate the infant's bier; <br />And guilt and shame, from which is no defence, <br />Descend on all that issues from our blood.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/feelings-of-a-noble-biscayan-at-one-of-those-funerals/
