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1. Since our Country, our God-Oh, my Sire! Demand that thy Daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vowStrike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!

3. And of this, oh, my Father! be sureThat the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below.

Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent !
I have won the great battle for thee,

my Father and Country are free!

5. When this blood of thy giving hath gushid, When the voice that thou lovest is hushid, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died !



1. Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year ;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom :

2. And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbid the dead!

3. Away; we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds nor hears distress : Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less ? And thou—who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.


1. My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling

sts melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear, 'Twill flow, and cease to burn my

brain :

2. But bid the strain be wild and deep,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

Or else this heavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow nurst,

And ached in sleepless silence long; And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,

And break at once-or yield to song.


1. I saw thee weep—the big bright tear

Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear

A violet dropping dew:
I saw thee smile—the sapphire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays

That fill'd that glance of thine.

2. As clouds from yonder sun receive

A deep and mellow die, Which scarce the shade of coming eve

Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind

Their own pure joy impart; Their sunshine leaves a glow behind

That lightens o'er the heart.

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