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 HEY came—a life-devouring band—
 * In winter o’er the sea;

Tearless they left their fatherland,
 * Home of their infancy.

And when they battled to be free,
 * ’Twas not for us and ours alone:

Millions may trace their destiny
 * To the wild beach they trod upon.

The brave on Bunker’s Hill who stood,
 * And fearless fought and died,

Felt in their veins the pilgrims’ blood,
 * Their spirit, and their pride.

That day’s last sunbeam was their last,
 * That well-fought field their death-bed scene;

But ’twas that battle’s bugle-blast
 * That bade the march of mind begin.

It sounded o’er the Atlantic waves:
 * “One struggle more, and then

Hearts that are now to tyrants slaves,
 * May beat like hearts of men.