They wait their call—and grief alone
May make the soul’s deep secrets known.
Yes! let her smile midst pleasure’s train,
Leading the reckless and the vain!
Firm on the scaffold she hath stood,
Besprinkled with the martyr’s blood;
Her voice the patriot’s heart hath steel’d,
Her spirit glow’d on battle-field;
Her courage freed from dungeon’s gloom
The captive brooding o’er his doom;