Then go! and round that gallant head,           

             Like banners in the air,           

             Shall float full many a daring hope,           

             And many a tender prayer!           

                        

             Should freedom perish—at thy death,           

             'T'were folly to repine—           

             And I should every feeling lose,           

             Except the wish for mine!           

                        

             But if the destiny of Spain,           

             Be once again to rise,           

             Oh! grant me heaven, to read the tale,           

             In Manuel's joyful eyes!           

                        

            

            

       IX.     

       SONNET.     

             I am unskill'd in speech: my tongue is slow           

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