Fall, shadows of twilight! and veil the green shore,
That the heart of the mighty may waver no more!
Why rise on my thoughts, ye free songs of the land
Where the harp’s lofty soul on each wild wind is borne?
Be hush’d, be forgotten! for ne’er shall the hand
Of minstrel with melody greet my return.
—No! no!—let your echoes still float on the breeze,
And my heart shall be strong for the conquest of seas!
’Tis not for the land of my sires to give birth
Unto bosoms that shrink when their trial is nigh;