the song of death(2 / 2)

go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know

no terrors hast thou to the brave!

thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,

nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;

thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark;

he falls in the ze of his fame!

in the field of proud honour—our swords in our hands,

our king and our country to save;

while victory shines on life'sst ebbing sands,—

o! who would not die with the brave!