O heart, in dreams I behold thee,
In toils of despair and of pain.
Thy throbbings are wrung by emotions
That torture the heart and the brain.
The sun and the moon shine no longer,
The world lies in darkling and gloom,
And my life nursed by grief and by sorrow
Is shrouded in darkness and doom.
Thus tortured with madness of dreaming,
I curse all my past and my life;
And the heart embittered and weary
Wants but to be freed from the strife.
'Tis torture to live in a land where
The faith of one's sires is profaned,
Where honour and justice have fallen,
Where freedom in darkness is chained.
O where are the deeds of true valour
Our past and our heritage claim?
Thou phantom of glory rise from thy
Grave where is buried thy fame.
O breathe in me, Georgia, the epic
And life-giving fires of thy might!
Infuse in me strength for the struggle;
In pride let my falchion gleam bright.
May the bosom that nursed me to manhood
Curse and blast me fore'er if I fall.
O my heart, that is aching, have courage,
Fight on, though in agony's thrall!







 

  In haughty pride, though wounded sore,
An eagle fought the raven-crow.
The bird in desperation strove
To rise but fell in frenzied woe.
His right wing swept the blood-stained ground;
His bosom shone in crimson glow.
"Alas! you smite, O ravens wild,
When I am wounded, fallen low.
Were I not struck, your feathers black
Would surely deck the plains below!"