Robbed mother of the stricken Motherland—
Two hearts in one and one among the dead,
Before your grave with an uncovered head
I, that am man, disquiet and silent stand
In reverence. It is your blood they shed;
It is your sacred self that they demand,
For one you bore in joy and hope, and planned
Would make yourself eternal, now has fled.
But though you yielded him unto the knife
And altar with a royal sacrifice
Of your most precious self and dearer life —
Your master gem and pearl above all price —
Content you; for the dawn this night restores
Shall be the dayspring of his soul and yours.