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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419033" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Released—January, 1878</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the 5th of January,!878, three of the Irish political prisoners, who had been confined since!866, were set at liberty. The released men were received by their fellow-countrymen in London. 'They are well,' said the report, ' but they look prematurely old.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>THEY are free at last! They can face the sun; <br>Their hearts now throb with the world's pulsation; <br>Their prisons are open—their night is done; <br>'Tis England's mercy and reparation!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The years of their doom have slowly sped— <br>Their limbs are withered—their ties are riven; <br>Their children are scattered, their friends are dead— <br>But the prisons are open—the 'crime' forgiven. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">God! what a threshold they stand upon: <br>The world has passed on while they were buried; <br>In the glare of the sun they walk alone <br>On the grass-grown track where the crowd has hurried. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Haggard and broken and seared with pain, <br>They seek the remembered friends and places: <br>Men shuddering turn, and gaze again <br>At the deep-drawn lines on their altered faces.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What do they read on the pallid page?<br>What is the tale of these woeful letters? <br>A lesson as old as their country's age,<br>Of a love that is stronger than stripes and fetters.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the blood of the slain some dip their blade, <br>And swear by the stain the foe to follow: <br>But a deadlier oath might here be made, <br>On the wasted bodies and faces hollow. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Irishmen! You who have kept the peace— <br>Look on these forms diseased and broken: <br>Believe, if you can, that their late release, <br>When their lives are sapped, is a good-will token. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their hearts are the bait on England's hook;<br>For this are they dragged from her hopeless prison; <br>She reads her doom in the Nation's book—<br>She fears the day that has darkly risen;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She reaches her hand for Ireland's aid—<br>Ireland, scourged, contemned, derided; <br>She begs from the beggar her hate has made; <br>She seeks for the strength her guile divided.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She offers a bribe—ah, God above!<br>Behold the price of the desecration: <br>The hearts she has tortured for Irish love<br>She brings as a bribe to the Irish nation!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, blind and cruel! She fills her cup<br>With conquest and pride, till its red wine splashes: <br>But shrieks at the draught as she drinks it up—<br>Her wine has been turned to blood and ashes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We know her—our Sister! Come on the storm!<br>God send it soon and sudden upon her: <br>The race she has shattered and sought to deform <br>Shall laugh as she drinks the black dishonor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Boyle+O%27Reilly">John Boyle O'Reilly</a><div class=q>
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