A Welcome to Louis Kossuth

Ho! Patriots of Old England, wake!

And join ye heart and hand,
To welcome him for Freedom's sake
To our free fatherland!
He needs no proud triumphal arch,
Nor banners on the wind:
In hearts that beat his triumph-march,
Is Kossuth fitly shrined!
We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.

He rose like Freedom's morning star,
Where all was darkling, dim
We saw his glory from afar,
And fought in soul for him!
Brave Yictor! how his radiant brow
King'd Freedom's host like Saul!
And in his crown of sorrow now
He's royallest heart of all.
We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.

Ay, English hearts thro' proud tears gush
With glory at his name —
Whose brave deeds made the roused blood rush
Along our veins like flame:
We cheer'd him thro' his hero-strife —
And, in his presence met,
We'll show the world that patriot life
Lives in Old England yet!
We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.

He comes all dim with glorious dust,
From out his wrestling ring:
But, blessings — praises — deathless trust —
Like armies round him cling!
And Freedom runs her radiant round,
Tho' clouds shut out the sky;
And yet the World's great heart shall bound,
To Kossuth's conquering cry.
We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.

His Hungary billows o'er with graves
Of Martyrs not in vain:
A rising ripening harvest waves
Its fruit of that red rain!
And once again the Hapsburgh Star
His flaming Sword shall dim;
And palsy strike the arm that dare
Not strike a blow for him!

We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!

Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.

Ring out, exult, and clap your hands,
Free Men and Women brave —
Shout, Britain! shake the startled lands,
And free the bounden Slave!
Come forth, make merry in the sun,
And give him welcome due;
Heroic hearts have crown'd him one
Of Earth's Immortal few!
We meet him here, we greet him here —
With Love's wide arms caress him!
Kings would have no such welcome here,
As Kossuth hath: God bless him.