Introit : Vii. The Poet Captain Poem by Thomas MacDonagh

They called him their king, their leader of men, and he led them well
For one bright year, and he vanquished their foe,
Breaking more battles than bards may tell,
Warring victoriously, -- till the heart spake low
And said -- Is it thus? Do not these things pass? What things abide?
They are but the birds from the ocean, the waves of the tide;
And thou are naught beside,-- grass and a form of clay.
And said -- The Ligurian fought in his day,--
In vain, in vain! Rome triumphs. He left his friends to the fight,
And their victory passed away,
And he like a star that flames and falls in the night.

But after another year they came to him again,
And said -- Lead us forth again. Come with us again.
But still he answered them -- You strive against fate, in vain
They said -- Our race is old. We would not have it pass.
Ere Rome began we are, a gentle people of old,
Unsavage when all were wild.
And he -- How Egypt was old in the days that were old,
Yet is passed, and we pass.
They said -- We shall have striven, unreconciled.
And he went with them again, and they conquered again.

Till the same bare season closed his unquiet heart
To all but sorrow of life -- This is in vain! Of yore
Lo, Egypt was, and all things do depart,
This is in vain! And he fought no more.
He conned the poems that poets had made in other days.
And he loved the past that he could pity and praise.
And he fought no more, living in solitude,
Till they came and called him back to the multitude,
Saying -- Our olden speech and our old manners die.
He went again, and they raised his banner on high:
Came Victory, eagle-formed, with wings wide flung,
As with them a while he fought, with never a weary thought, and with never a sigh,
That their children might have again their manners and ancient tongue.

But again the sorrow of life whispered to his soul
And said -- O little soul, striving to little goal!
Here is a finite world where all things change and change!
And said -- In Mexico a people strange
Loved their manners and speech long ago when the world was young!
Their speech is silent long -- What of it now? -- Silent and dead
Their manners forgotten, and all but their memory sped!
And said -- What matter? Heart will die and tongue;
Or if they live again they live in a place that is naught,
With other language, other custom, different thought.
He left them again to their fight, and no more for him they sought.

But they chose for leader a stern sure man
That looked not back on the waste of story:
For his country he fought in the battle's van,
And he won her peace and he won her glory.