The harvest of our blood and tears.
Only—when this long fight is done,
And, breathing Freedom's purer air,
You share the vantage we have won—
Think not the honour, too, to share;
The honour shall be theirs and theirs alone
By whom the thrall was overthrown.
Meanwhile a boon: if not your swords,
Give us your sympathy at need;
Show us the friendship which affords