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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! |
