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! song should greet the son of song; To him whose truth-taught pen imparts The simple thoughts of simple hearts, The offerings of such hearts belong; And thou hast waked so sweet a strain, That Albion echoes it again.

bard, (Slavonia! hold him dear, As worthy of thy brighter day!) Whose spirit shall extend the ray That flits across the silent tear, Which sadness in its gloom lets fall On Slava's melancholy pall:—