Gather all kindreds of this boundless realm To speak a common tongue in thee! Be thou— Heart, pulse, and voice, whether pent hate o’erwhelm The stormy speech or young love whisper low. Cheer them, immitigable battle-drum! Forth, truth-mailed, to the old unconquered field, And lure them gently to a laurelled home, In notes more soft than lutes or viols yield. Fill all the stops of life with tuneful breath; Closing their lids, bestow a dirge-like death!
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