Stand! the ground’s your own, my braves!
Will ye give it up to slaves?
Will ye look for greener graves?
Hope ye mercy still?
What ’s the mercy despots feel?
Hear it in that battle-peal!
Read it on yon bristling steel!
Ask it,—ye who...
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O Thou vast Ocean! ever-sounding Sea! |
And thou hast walked about (how strange a story! |
STAND! 1 the ground ’s your own, my braves! |
My curse upon thy venomed stang, When fevers burn, or ague freezes,... |