“I’ve seen, from the smoking village,
Our mothers and daughters fly!
I’ve seen, where the little children
Sank down in the furrows, to die!
“On the banks of the battle-stained river
I stood, as the moonlight shone,
And it glared on the face of my brother,
As the sad wave swept him on!
“Where my home was glad, are ashes,
And horror and shame had been there;