Come to the banquet -- triumph in your songs! <br />Strike up the chords -- and sing of Victory! <br />The oppressed have risen to redress their wrongs; <br />The Tyrants are o'erthrown; the Land is free! <br />The Land is free! Aye, shout it forth once more; <br />Is she not red with her oppressors' gore? <br />We are her champions -- shall we not rejoice? <br />Are not the tyrants' broad domains our own? <br />Then wherefore triumph with a faltering voice; <br />And talk of freedom in a doubtful tone? <br />Have we not longed through life the reign to see <br />Of Justice, linked with Glorious Liberty? <br /> <br />Shout you that will, and you that can rejoice <br />To revel in the riches of your foes. <br />In praise of deadly vengeance lift you voice, <br />Gloat o'er your tyrants' blood, you victims' woes. <br />I'd rather listen to the skylarks' songs, <br />And think on Gondal's, and my Father's wrongs. <br /> <br />It may be pleasant, to recall the death <br />Of those beneath whose sheltering roof you lie; <br />But I would rather press the mountain heath, <br />With naught to shield me from the starry sky, <br />And dream of yet untasted victory -- <br />A distant hope -- and feel that I am free! <br /> <br />O happy life! To range the mountains wild, <br />The waving woods -- or Ocean's heaving breast, <br />With limbs unfettered, conscience undefiled, <br />And choosing where to wander, where to rest! <br />Hunted, oppressed, but ever strong to cope -- <br />With toils, and perils -- ever full of hope! <br /> <br />'Our flower is budding' -- When that word was heard <br />On desert shore, or breezy mountain's brow, <br />Wherever said -- what glorious thoughts it stirred! <br />'Twas budding then -- Say has it blossomed now? <br />Is this the end we struggled to obtain? <br />O for the wandering Outlaw's life again!<br /><br />Anne Brontë<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-2-2/
