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If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves; But we've smote them already with fire on the
And new triumphs on land are before us.
To the charge!-Heaven's banner is o'er us.
This day shall ye blush for its story,
Or brighten your lives with its glory.
Our women, Oh, say, shall they shriek in despair,
Or embrace us from conquest with wreaths in their
Accursed may his memory blacken,
If a coward there be that would slacken
Till we've trampled the turban and shown ourselves worth
Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth.
Strike home, and the world shall revere us
As heroes descended from heroes.
Old Greece lightens up with emotion
Her inlands, her isles of the Ocean;
That were cold and extinguish'd in sadness;
Whilst our maidens shall dance with their whitewaving arms,
Singing joy to the brave that deliver'd their charms, When the blood of yon Musulman cravens
Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens.
THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS
ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
Ir any white-wing'd Power above
My joys and griefs survey,
The day when thou wert born, my loveHe surely bless'd that day.
I laugh'd (till taught by thee) when told
THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.
My mind had lovely shapes pourtray'd;
But thought I earth had one
Could make ev'n Fancy's visions fade
I gaz'd, and felt upon my lips
Th' unfinish'd accents hang:
One moment's bliss, one burning kiss,
And though as swift as lightning's flash
Those tranced moments flew,
Not all the waves of time shall wash