The Song of Death
FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,Now gay with the broad setting sun;Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,Our race of existence is run!Thou grim King of Terrors; thou Life’s gloomy foe!Go, frighten the coward and slave;Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but knowNo 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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