A sunbeam thou seest through the shade
Where Order and Peace are throned 'neath the smile
Of a royal sisterly Maid:--
For hope in the breast of the girl has her nest,
Ever trusting, and ever betray'd.

Brave womanly heart that, beholding the shore,
Beholds her own grave unaware,--
Though the days to come their shame should unveil
Yet onward she still would dare!
Though the meadows smile with statesmanly guile,
And the cuckoo's call is a snare!

Turn aside, O Queen, from the cruel land,
From the greedy shore turn away;
From shame upon shame:--But most shame for those
On their passionate captive who play
With a subtle net, hope enwoven with threat,
Hung out to tempt her astray!

Poor scape-goat of crimes, where,--her part what it may,--
So tortured, so hunted to die,
Foul age of deceit and of hate,--on her head
Least stains of gore-guiltiness lie;
To the hearts of the just her blood from the dust
Not in vain for mercy will cry.

Poor scape-goat of nations and faiths in their strife
So cruel,--and thou so fair!
Poor girl!--so, best, in her misery named,--