Maxioms by Thomas Moore
Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the read more
Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave
Whose treason, like a deadly blight,
Comes o'er the councils of the brave,
And blasts them in their hour of might!
Bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
Bastard Freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
To Greece we give our shining blades.
To Greece we give our shining blades.
How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she read more
How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
Goes answering light.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and
that is eternity.
From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and
that is eternity.
