The Song Of Death（2 / 2）
go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know
no terrors hast thou to the brave!
thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,
nor saves e'en the wreck of a name;
thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark;
he falls in the blaze of his fame!
in the field of proud honour—our swords in our hands,
our king and our country to save;
while victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,—
o! who would not die with the brave!
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