Carmen Saeculare

They fall in the shelterless hollow ; They sleep in the cold and the sun ; They fight, and the Englishmen follow— The odds are as twenty to one ! Hide, hide thy bright eyes, O Apollo ! The murder is done.* The stones should arise to declare it, Their terror and tyrannous reign ! The earth be unable to bear it, Gape wide, for her motherly pain ! Shalt thou, O Columbia, share it, The shame and the stain ? Your stripes are the stripes of dishonour ; Your stars are cast down from the sky ; While earth has this burden upon her, Your eagle unwilling to fly ! Loose, loose the wide wings ! For your honour ! Let tyranny die ! Remember, this day of your glory, Your fight for the freedom you own. Those years—is their memory hoary ? Your chains—is their memory flown ? * At the hour of passing the proof-sheets, however, the Boers are not yet conquered—nor likely to be ! 29