The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1851-11-05
from the N. Y. A~smonean.
KOSSUTH TO HUNGARY.
FarereN Address Of Kossnth 10 Hungary

FdrcCcU ADDRESS OF A0Ssata 10
A valued correspondent of The Asmo-
nean, M. IL. Bresslan. Esq, some time
since placed a, our disposal several ex-
tracts from a talented work then about to
be published in london. by a Hungarian
co-religionisl, Captain Philip korn, under
tho title OF the Newest Chronicle oil the
Magyatsa Nnesif Chronic der Mdggare",)
among which documents we find one par
ticulafIy opposite and interesting at this
moment, and feeling that the pa,!los and
iresoft The German is perfectly unirsnsia'
table, we have given, Tor the heiieiii OF our
numerous German readers. besides the
translation, a literal copy at the original.
Conscious Of the sympathyrhey entertain
for poor Hungary and its martyrs. we are
assured upon reading in Teutoni's vigor-
Gus strains the PATRIOTS farewell (Abrchied)
to his Fatherland, their solicitude will be
increased to greet the illustrious exile in a
manner suitable to his merits and compat-
ible with the great position this nation
holds as the palladium of Liberty.
III the work alluded to Captain korn
states. before Kossuth's departure from the
Hungarian soil, he knelt down upon it.
opened his arms as if he would embrace
its fields. kissed the earth moistened and
sanctifsd by the blood OF its most valuable
children, and after addressing a short
prayer to the Disposer Of all events, he
pronounced the following eloquent
Farewell TO THE FATHERLAND:
God be with thee, my beloved Father
Land! God be with thee, Fatherland Of the
Magyers! God be with thee, land OF tor
lures! | shall not be able to behold the
submits Of thy mountains; no more shall |
be able to call my Fatherland,-the soil.
where, on tho mothers heart | imbibed the
milk Of Freedom and Justice!
Pardon me, my Fatherland, me who am
condemned to wander about far from thee,
because | strove in thy welfare. Pardon
me who no more call anything free. but tho
small space. where | am now keeling down
with a few Of thy sons. My looks fall up
on thee, ., poor Fa,herland! see thes
bent down with s%ufferings! now turn
them TO tuturity, thy Future is nothing but
a great grief! Thy plains are m%oistensd
with crimson gore, which will soon be
blackened by an unmerciful devastation
and destruction, as if to mourn over the
numberless ~conquests which thy Sons have
achieved over the ~accursed enemies Of thy
hallowed soil. How many grateful hearts
lifted up their prayers to the Throne OF the
Almighty! How many tears have flowed
which would even have moved He'll to com
passion! How many streams Of blood
have run. as proofs, how the Hungarian
loves his Fatherland, and how he can dit
for it! and yet hast thou, beloved Father
land, become a slave!
Thy beloved sons are chained and drag
ged away like slaves, destined to fette'
again everything that is holy; to become
serviceable 10 all that is unholy! Lord
if Thou lowest Thy people. whose heroic
ancestors Thou didst enable to conque
under Arpad. amid so manifold dangers,
beseech Thee, and | implore Thee, {
humble it not!
Behold, my dear Fatherland, thus speak
to thee thy son, in the whirlwind Of trou
bles and despair, on thy utmost boundary
Pardon me, if the great number OF thy
sons have shed their blood for my sake, o
rather for thine, because was their rep
resentative: because protected thee, whe'
on thv brow was written in letters OF bloot
the word DANGER" because l.. when i
was called unto thee. "Be a Slave tool
I'D the sword for thee; because ] girded OF
my sword when the enemy had the auda
CITY TO say: "Thou art no more a nation
in the land Of the Magyers!
With gigantic PAGES time rolled on, witt
~black-yellow letters fate wrote on tn
pages of thy history DEATH" and t.
stamp the seal upon it, it called the North
ern Colossus to assist. But the rsddenlnJ
Morning dawn of the South will meet TIN
seal!
Behold, my dear Fatherland. for thee
who hast shed so much Of thy blood, Their
il not even compassion; because on IN
hills, which are lowered up by the bone
of thy fallen sons, Tyranny earns he
bread.
o see, my dear Fstherland! the un
grateful, whom thou didst nourlsh from IN
tut of thy plenitude, has turned agains
thee, apeins, thee has turned the traitor.t
destroy thee from the head TO the sole o
thy ioot But thou. noble nation, hast en-
dured all this, thou hast not cursed tn.
fate, because in thy bosom over all suffer
ing. HOPE is enshrined.
Magyars! turn your looks not ava.
from me, for even at this moment my tear
flow only for you, and the soil on winch
am kneeling. yet bears your name!
Thou art fallen, truest Of natioIs! lho'
art thrust down under thine own blow! no
the weapon of a foreign enemy which ne
dug thy grave; not the cannons OF tn
MANY nations, who were brought up agains
thee-they have tottered back at the Low
TO the Fatherland! not the Muscovlte'
who cra wled over the Carpatasns, hav
.-n.lad thae IN Law down thine arm.