welcome to kossuth.
155
Cut light the billows, thou fair ship—
A precious freight is thine;
Thou bearest an exiled Patriot
To Freedom's holy shrine;
A precious freight is thine;
Thou bearest an exiled Patriot
To Freedom's holy shrine;
Thou bearest a warrior from afar,
Freed from a galling chain,
And withered be the arm that seeks
To bind the brave again.
Freed from a galling chain,
And withered be the arm that seeks
To bind the brave again.
Children of Hungary! thy wrongs
Awake our pitying care;
At morn, at night, at noon, at eve,
We breathe for thee a prayer,—
Awake our pitying care;
At morn, at night, at noon, at eve,
We breathe for thee a prayer,—
That thou mayst yet be free indeed,
Free as the mountain breeze
That plays upon our own broad streams,
And murmurs 'mid our trees.
Free as the mountain breeze
That plays upon our own broad streams,
And murmurs 'mid our trees.
May Freedom's watchword yet ring out
Amid thy hills so blue;
And thine be yet the happiest home
That freemen ever knew.
Amid thy hills so blue;
And thine be yet the happiest home
That freemen ever knew.
