While a poison banes the land,
And a noble nation rots.
Thou shalt find a soldier-host
Tied and rooted to its place,
Like a woman cowed and dumb,
Staring Treason in the face.
Dost thou hear me? Speak, or move!
And if thou wouldst pass the line,
Give the password of the night—
Halt! and give the countersign.