Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

Another rising sun, and ye shall strain
The maddening fury of your steeds in vain.
Swift, then, and swifter be your winged flight !
Restore the captives ere the star of night
Shall rise to light them o'er the desert wild,
"Where gladdening hope and beauty never smiled.
The die is cast ! Rejoice ! The day is won
The perilous march of freedom has begun,
The captive band have burst the ignoble chain
That AfFghan fraud shall never forge again.
Torn with a thousand fears, they looked on high,
Resolved to break their yoke or nobly die.
They nerved their spirits for the daring flight.
And British valour crushed the traitor's might.
Hark ! — 'tis the tramp of the returning few,
Whom deadly hearts and weapons still pursue ;
The furious Akbar wings his Arab blood.
Unchecked by toppling crag or mountain flood.
Haste ! — haste, ye brave ! that long-suspended breath
Is life and freedom, or a cruel death.
Oh, shout in triumi^h now ! and freely breathe,
Your gallant friends arg bounding o'er the heath ;
They sweep the mountain's side — "They come! they
come ! "
Near and still nearer rolls the welcome drum ;
"The meteor flag of England " waves on high,
And shouts of mutual greeting rend the sky.
The echoes, wakened in their sparry cave,
Swell the tumultuous pseans of the brave ;
The hills, responsive to the joyous lay,
Reverberate the long and loud huzzah !
What silent rapture when the hero pressed
His own Florentina to his manly breast !