He speaks—and from the throngs around
Is heard not e'en a whisper'd sound;
Awe-struck each heart, and fix'd each glance,
They stand as in a spell-bound trance:
He speaks—oh! who can hear nor own
The might of each prevailing tone?
"Chieftains and warriors! ye, so long
Aroused to strife by mutual wrong,
Whose fierce and far-transmitted hate
Hath made your country desolate;
Now by the love ye bear her name,
By that pure spark of holy flame
On freedom's altar brightly burning,
But, once extinguish'd—ne'er returning;
By all your hopes of bliss to come
When burst the bondage of the tomb;
By Him, the God who bade us live
To aid each other, and forgive;
I call upon ye to resign
Your discords at your country's shrine,
Each ancient feud in peace atone,
Wield your keen swords for her alone,
