I.
HARK! the onward heavy tread—
Hark! the voices rude—
'Tis the famished cry for Bread
From a wildered multitude.
From a wildered multitude.
They come! They come!
Point the cannon—roll the drum;
Thousands wail and weep with hunger—
Faster let your soldiers number.
Sword, and gun, and bayonet
A famished people's cries have met.