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rears his country's fair renown,

Shall earn a patriot's lofty praise—

Yes! he shall wear a laurel crown,

And him shall sing the poet's lays;

What prouder fame, what greener bays

Can history offer?—be his meed

Eternal laud within the shrine,

Lighted by glory's lamp divine,

That every triumph, every deed

Thro' everlasting years may shine.

! Bohemia's chief—arise!

Of murdered Hus th' avenger thou!

Thou hast o'erwhelm'd thine enemies

In the fierce battle-field, and now

They perish in the dust below.