Hark! hark! in the howl of the wind The shout of the battle-the clang of their drums- Behold from the clouds of their power The lightning-the lightning is lanced at our sires, Ye Souls of our Fathers be brave! Ye shrunk not before the invaders on earth, We gaze on your warfare in hope, We send up our shouts to encourage your arms! Lift the lance of your vengeance O Fathers! with force, For the wrongs of your country strike home! Remember the land was your own When the Sons of Destruction came over the seas, Till the Strangers came into the land With tongues of deceit and with weapons of fire, Then the strength of the people in youth was cut off, And the father wept over his son. It thickens-the tumult of fight, Remember the wrongs that your country endures, Joy joy for the Strangers recoil They give way-they retreat to the land of their life! Pursue them! pursue them! remember your wrongs ! Let your lances be drunk with their wounds. The Souls of your wives shall rejoice As they welcome you back to your Islands of Bliss, And the breeze that refreshes the toil-throbbing brow Waft thither the song of your praise. END. Bristol: Printed by Biggs and Co. St. Auguftine's-Back. |