The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
To bear is to conquer our fate.
Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and robes the mountain in its azure hue.
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.
I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
Tomorrow let us do or die!
An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write; but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
What millions died that Caesar might be great!
Ye are brothers, ye are men, and we conquer but to save.