THE PATRIOT
THY DAYS ARE DONE
By
Lord Byron
Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen son,
The slaughters of his sword:
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored.
Though thou art fallen, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death:
The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath;
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit in our breath.
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word;
Thy fall the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd:
To weep would do thy glory wrong, --
Thou shalt not be deplored !\
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