254 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
Yet to the wise it matters nought What way he goes to dust ;
The sole thing worthy of his thought Is, if his cause be just;
And, if he's right, he'll act, nor think
Whether he's doomed to swim or sink.
��Dear country, nought in death I dread,
Save that but once I fall, And slumber idly with the dead,
When thou hast need of all ; Thy living sons shall all defend, While I with senseless earth must blend.
Thy cause requires a million hands
To battle with thy foes. Lives numerous as the ocean sands ;
I have but one to lose. Yet, though the sacrifice be small, Disdain not, since I give thee all.
O that my blood from out the ground, 'Neath God's inspiring breath.
Might at thy trumpet's piercing sound One instant leap from death.
Each drop a man, each man a spy.
Foredoomed in thy great cause to die.
How blest even so to serve thee still. Slain o'er, and o'er, and o'er !
From field to field, from hill to hill, Fd chase thy cannon's roar,
And shed my blood like showers of rain,
And fall, and rise, and fall again.
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