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Though, struggling all in vain to war With that high soul's ascendant star,. He, with a conqueror's scornful eye, Would mock the name of Liberty. Heard ye the Patriot's awful voice?— "Proud Victor! in thy fame rejoice! Hast thou not seen thy brethren slain, The harvest of thy battle-plain, And bathed thy sword in blood, whose spot Eternity shall cancel not? Rejoice!—with sounds of wild lament, O'er her dark heaths and mountains sent, With dying moan, and dirge's wail, Thy ravaged country bids thee hail! Rejoice!—while yet exulting cries, From England's conquering host arise,