That you’re found, as you’ve been always found, a brutal, cowardly crew!
At the wave of his hand to a dozen men, two thousand slunk like hounds;
He kennelled you up, and kept you too, till twice you saw through the azure blue,
The day-star circle round.
No longer the taunt, our history’s new, “our hero is yet to come”—
We’ve suddenly leaped a thousand years beyond the rolling sun!
And, sheeted round with a martyr’s glory, again on earth’s renewed the story
Of bravery, truth, and righteousness, a battle lost and won;
A life laid down for the poor and weak, the immortal crown put on;
The spark of Luther’s touched to the pile—swords gleam—black smoke obscures the sun—