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A NATION'S DIRGE.

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A NATION'S DIRGE. FINIS WHERE the greedy vulture, scaling, Screeched upon the sorrowing wind- Where the wretched widow, wailing, Sought her husband's corse to find- Thither my sad spirit wandered, O'er a noble people's grave On the dreary plains I pondered, Gorged with blood that warmed the brave. Hushed was every sound of gladness; Orphans wept in anguish by Dull the sinking sun, in sadness, Gleamed reluctant from the sky. Noble heroes, crushed and scattered, Whither shall thy children roam ? All is lost, thy hopes are shattered Whither can they seek a home ? Say, has Europe let thee perish, Taught by slavish hordes to tear ? Grown too weak the just to cherish, All too poor to spare a tear ? Mercy, help, the light hath vanished From thy once triumphant hand; Freedom falls thy sons are banished Wandering in a foreign land. Evil, evil sounds the story; Evil sounds the dirge, and drear When fair Freedom, faint and gory, Helpless, falls without a tear. Hark a sound, by spirits muttered, Falls upon the sense divine, God, the God of Light, hath uttered, Retribution shall be mine H.

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