Nay, Inez, no more persuade;
Those are sounds that to glory should move:
Ah! ne'er for a warrior made
Were the garlands thy fondness wove.
Wake!-arouse! 'tis the battle's roar;
'Tis its light'ning afar I see!
I return with life no more,
Or, my country, thou shalt be free!
Yet, Inez, in other lands,
When around war's banners shall stream;
When rush forth our conquering bands
All radiant with bravery's beam:
Yes-then, midst the battle's roar,
I can still spare one thought for thee;
But we meet again no more,
Till, my country, thou shalt be free!