Page:National Lyrics.pdf/48



Moor is on his way! With the tambour-peal and the tecbir-shout,† And the horn o'er the blue seas ringing out, He hath marshalled his dark array!

Shout through the vine-clad land! That her sons on all their hills may hear, And sharpen the point of the red wolf spear, And the sword for the brave man's hand!