Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE POLISH REFUGEE.
On the banks of the Seine, when the twilight was failing,
And the moon's yellow rays gilded palace and tree,
A poor Polish refugee stray'd, thus bewailing
The wrongs of his country and lost liberty—
“Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
There's no land, there's no land,
'Neath the blue vault of heaven, so ill-fated as thee!
And the moon's yellow rays gilded palace and tree,
A poor Polish refugee stray'd, thus bewailing
The wrongs of his country and lost liberty—
“Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
There's no land, there's no land,
'Neath the blue vault of heaven, so ill-fated as thee!
“To arms! was the cry; 'gainst the despot, united,
Each patriot, undaunted, his weapon did draw;
But hope's verdant leaves by despair soon were blighted,
When our last stand was made round the walls of Warsaw.
Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
Can no hand, can no hand,
Dethrone that dread power that makes tyranny law?
Each patriot, undaunted, his weapon did draw;
But hope's verdant leaves by despair soon were blighted,
When our last stand was made round the walls of Warsaw.
Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
Can no hand, can no hand,
Dethrone that dread power that makes tyranny law?
“The conflict was dire, and the carnage appalling;
‘To exile or death’! was the savage foe's yell—
But, vanquish'd at last, to our souls, O 'twas galling,
When destruction's harsh trump sounded freedom's last knell.
Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
Thou now art our foe's land,
And thy children must bid thee an endless farewell.”
‘To exile or death’! was the savage foe's yell—
But, vanquish'd at last, to our souls, O 'twas galling,
When destruction's harsh trump sounded freedom's last knell.
Sweet Poland, sweet Poland,
Thou now art our foe's land,
And thy children must bid thee an endless farewell.”
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |