What seeks the foe?—a grave!
It seemed as the sirocco’s breath
Had swept them off, its frown beneath,
And lo!—they soundly sleep,—
Their cheers in death’s deep silence hushed,
Like those in the Sahara crushed,
The winds their requiem weep.
Thus perish all our Country’s foes,
All despots, tyrants, and all those
Who trample on mankind!