Then my life, my breath were poison,
Venom would my breast but foster,
Until I had shed in Ireland
Blood in such a copious torrent,
That though base it might wash out
The remembrance of my wronger.
Ah, my honour, low thou liest,
By a ruthless foot down trodden!--
I will die with thee, united
We two will together conquer
These barbarians. Then since little,
But a span at best, belongeth
To my life, a noble vengeance
Let this dagger take upon me!--
But, good God! what evil impulse
With demoniac instinct prompteth
Thus my hand? I am a Christian,
I've a soul, and share the godly
Light of faith: then were it right,
'Mid a crowd of Gentile mockers,
Thus the Christian faith to tarnish
By an action so improper?
What example would I give them
By a death so sad and shocking,
Save that I thus gave the lie
To the works that Patrick worketh.
Since they'd say, who worship only
Their own vices most immodest,
Who deny unto the soul
Its eternal joy or torment,
"Of what use is Patrick's preaching
That man's soul must be immortal,
If the Christian, Luis Enius,
Kills himself? He can't acknowledge
Its eternal life who'd lose it."--
Thus with actions so discordant,
He the light and I the shadow,
We would neutralize each other.
'Tis enough to be so wicked
As even now to feel no sorrow,
No repentance for past sins,
Rather a desire for others.
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