Orananaoig, or, The Song of death

FAREWELL, thou fair day; thou green earth; and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun!
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties!
Our race of existence is run.
Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,
Go frighten the coward and slave!
Go teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,
No terrors has thou to the Brave.

Thou strik'st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name:
Thou strik'st the young hero, a glorious mark!
He falls in the blaze of his fame.
In the field of proud honor, our swords in our hands,
Our King and our Country to save,
While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands,
O, who would not die with the Brave!