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Ah! let the tribute of thy praise impart,
The dearest pleasure of my glowing heart.
And should I fall—oh! be my glorious grave
Crown'd with the patriot-honours of the brave.
Think that I died in virtue's sacred cause;
Think that I died to win her bright applause.
MOTHER.
My noble Isadas, to me what pride,
Wert thou to die—as thy brave father died!
Go, young enthusiast, to the battle go,
Repel with native zeal the daring foe.
Oh! that I were a bird, with thee I'd fly,
And search the ranks among with piercing eye,
For thee my son: thy actions brave I'd mark,
And grave them in my breast.——But hark! oh, hark!
The martial trumpet sounds to war's alarms;
Farewel! my hero, haste thee from my arms.
SON.
Adieu! my mother, if with glory crown'd
Home I return not, scarr'd with many a wound,
I'll bravely fall in battle's rushing tide;
Conquer or die—"as my brave father died!"
