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 | American poems, selected and original |  |
Up sprung the youth—deep griding fell the sword
Sunk in the Tyrant's brow;
Fast fly the Swedes, and leave their hated lord,
His tow'ring pride laid low.
Sunk in the Tyrant's brow;
Fast fly the Swedes, and leave their hated lord,
His tow'ring pride laid low.
| American poems, selected and original | |