Could you brand us as villains and serfs, know ye not
What fierce, sullen hatred lurks under the scar?
How loyal to Hapsburg is Venice, I wot!
How dearly the Pole loves his father, the Czar!
But 'twere well to remember this land of the sun
Is a nutrix leonum, and suckles a race
Strong-armed, lion-hearted, and banded as one,
Who brook not oppression and know not disgrace.
And well may the schemers in office beware
The swift retribution that waits upon crime,
When the lion, RESISTANCE, shall leap from his lair,
With a fury that renders his vengeance sublime.
Once, men of the North, we were brothers, and still,
Though brothers no more, we would gladly be friends;
Nor join in a conflict accursed, that must fill
With ruin, the country on which it descends.
But, if smitten with blindness, and mad with the rage
The gods gave to all whom they wished to destroy,
You would act a new Iliad, to darken the age
With horrors beyond what is told us of Troy--
If, deaf as the adder itself to the cries,
When wisdom, humanity, justice implore,
You would have our proud eagle to feed on the eyes
Of those who have taught him so grandly to soar--
If there be to your malice no limit imposed,
And you purpose hereafter to rule with the rod
The men upon whom you already have closed
Our goodly domain and the temples of God:
To the breeze then your banner dishonored unfold,
And, at once, let the tocsin be sounded afar;
We greet you, as greeted the Swiss, Charles the Bold--
With a farewell to peace and a welcome to war!
For the courage that clings to our soil, ever bright,
Shall catch inspiration from turf and from tide;
Our sons unappalled shall go forth to the fight,
With the smile of the fair, the pure kiss of the bride;
And the bugle its echoes shall send through the past,
In the trenches of Yorktown to waken the slain;
While the sod of King's Mountain shall heave at the blast,
And give up its heroes to glory again.