“A brighter day we soon shall see,
Tho’ now the prospect lowers,
And Conquest, Peace, and Liberty
Shall gild our future hours.”
The foe advanc’d—in firm array
We rush’d o’er Sabla’s sands,
And the red sabre mark’d our way
Amidst their yielding bands.
Then as they writh’d in death’s cold grasp,
We cried, “Our choice is made!