SONNET TO THE HUNGARIAN NATION.
/July 21st, 1849/
Not in sunk Spain’s prolong’d death agony ;
Not in rich England, bent but to make pour
The flood of the world’s commerce on her shore ;
Not in that madhouse, France, from whence the cry
Afflicts grave Heaven with its long sens
Not in American vulgarity.
Nor wordy German imbecility —
Lies any hope of heroism more.
Hungarians ! Save the world ! Renew the stories
Of men who against hope repell’d the chain,
And make the world’s dead spirit leap again !
On land renew that Greek exploit, whose glories
Hallow the Salaminian promontories,
And the Armada flung to the fierce main.