Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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FEELINGS OF A NOBLE BISCAYAN AT ONE OF THOSE FUNERALS

          YET, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes
          With firmer soul, yet labour to regain
          Our ancient freedom; else 'twere worse than vain
          To gather round the bier these festal shows.
          A garland fashioned of the pure white rose
          Becomes not one whose father is a slave:
          Oh, bear the infant covered to his grave!
          These venerable mountains now enclose
          A people sunk in apathy and fear.
          If this endure, farewell, for us, all good!                 10
          The awful light of heavenly innocence
          Will fail to illuminate the infant's bier;
          And guilt and shame, from which is no defence,
          Descend on all that issues from our blood.
                                                              1810.


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