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I. IN due observance of an ancient rite, | |
| The rude Biscayans when their children lie | |
| Dead in the sinless time of infancy, | |
| Attire the peaceful corse in vestments white; | |
| And, in like sign of cloudless triumph bright, | 5 |
| They bind the unoffending creature’s brows | |
| With happy garlands of the pure white rose: | |
| This done, a festal company unite | |
| In choral song; and, while the uplifted cross | |
| Of Jesus goes before, the child is borne | 10 |
| Uncovered to his grave. Her piteous loss | |
| The lonesome mother cannot choose but mourn; | |
| Yet soon by Christian faith is grief subdued, | |
| And joy attends upon her fortitude. | |
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II. YET, yet, Biscayans, we must meet our foes | 15 |
| With firmer soul, yet labor to regain | |
| Our ancient freedom; else ’t were 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: | 20 |
| O, 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! | |
| The awful light of heavenly innocence | 25 |
| 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. | |
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