The Parting before the Battle
HE .
O N to the field, our doom is sealed,
To conquer or be slaves:
This sun shall see our nation free,
Or set upon our graves.
SHE .
Farewell, oh farewell, my love,
May heaven thy guardian be,
And send bright angels from above
To bring thee back to me.
HE .
On to the field, the battle-field,
Where freedom's standard waves,
This sun shall see our tyrant yield,
Or shine upon our graves.
O N to the field, our doom is sealed,
To conquer or be slaves:
This sun shall see our nation free,
Or set upon our graves.
SHE .
Farewell, oh farewell, my love,
May heaven thy guardian be,
And send bright angels from above
To bring thee back to me.
HE .
On to the field, the battle-field,
Where freedom's standard waves,
This sun shall see our tyrant yield,
Or shine upon our graves.
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