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He speaks—and from the throngs around Is heard not e'en a whisper'd sound; Awe-struck each heart, and fix'd each glance, They stand as in a spell-bound trance: He speaks—oh! who can hear nor own The might of each prevailing tone?

"Chieftains and warriors! ye, so long Aroused to strife by mutual wrong, Whose fierce and far-transmitted hate Hath made your country desolate; Now by the love ye bear her name, By that pure spark of holy flame On freedom's altar brightly burning, But, once extinguish'd—ne'er returning; By all your hopes of bliss to come When burst the bondage of the tomb; By Him, the God who bade us live To aid each other, and forgive; I call upon ye to resign Your discords at your country's shrine, Each ancient feud in peace atone, Wield your keen swords for her alone,