Whose sons through centuries of woe have striven,
And perish’d by her temples, sink awhile,
Borne down in conflict! But immortal seed
Deep, by heroic suffering, hath been sown
On all her ancient hills, and generous hope
Knows that the soil, in its good time, shall yet
Bring forth a glorious harvest! Earth receives
Not one red drop from faithful hearts in vain.
Elm. Then it must be! And ye will make those lives,
Those young bright lives, an offering—to retard