« AnteriorContinuar »
Yet, remember, England gathers
Hence but fruitless wreaths of fame, If the patriotism of your fathers Glow not in your hearts the same.
What are monuments of bravery,
Where no public virtues bloom? What avail in lands of slavery,
Trophied temples, arch and tomb ?
Pageants !—Let the world revere us
For our people's rights and laws, And the breasts of civic heroes
Bared in Freedom's holy cause.
Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory,
Sydney's matchless shade is yours, Martyrs in heroic story,
Worth a hundred Agincourts !
We're the sons of sires that baffled
Crown’d and mitred tyranny :They defied the field and scaffold
For their birthrights—so will we !
The ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded,
And sad pale AdelgITHA came, When forth a valiant champion bounded,
And slew the slanderer of her fame.
She wept, deliver'd from her danger;
But when he knelt to claim her glove“Seek not,” she cried, “ oh! gallant stranger,
For hapless Adelgitha's love.
“ For he is in a foreign far land
Whose arm should now have set me free;
And I must wear the willow garland
For him that 's dead, or false to me.”
“Nay! say not that his faith is tainted !”—
He raised his vizor-At the sight
She fell into his arms and fainted;
It was indeed her own true knight!
DRINK ye to her that each loves best,
And if you nurse a flame
That 's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
Enough, while memory tranced and glad
Paints silently the fair, That each should dream of joys he's had,
Or yet may hope to share.
Yet far, far hence be.jest or boast
From hallow'd thoughts so dear ; But drink to them that we love most,
As they would love to hear."