And smite the strength, that would thy strength deform.
Yet Liberty; thy dawning light,
Obscured by dungeon bars, shall cast
A splendour on the breaking night,
And tyrants, flying thick and fast,
Shall tremble at thy gaze, and stand aghast.”
In poetic feeling, patriotic spirit, living faith, and withal in literary beauty, these lines are not surpassed; and they cannot fail to rank Placido not only with the great-hearted, but with the gifted men of the earth. A tribute to his genius is recorded in the fact, that he was ransomed from slavery by the contributions of slave-holders of Cuba.
Placido was executed on the 7th of July, 1844. On the first fire of the soldiers, no ball entered his heart. He looked up, but with no spirit of revenge, no aspect of defiance,—only sat upon his countenance the desire to pass at once into the region where no death is.
“Pity me,” said he, “and fire here,”—putting his hand upon his heart. Two balls then entered his body, and Placido fell.
As Wordsworth said of Touissant, so may it be said of Placido,—