Merrily Every Bosom Boundeth. (The Tyrolese Song Of Liberty.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

Merrily every bosom boundeth,
Merrily, oh!
Where the song of Freedom soundeth,
Merrily oh!
There the warrior's arms
Shed more splendor;
There the maiden's charm's
Shine more tender;
Every joy the land surroundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily, oh!
Where the bond of slavery twineth
Wearily, oh
There the warrior's dart
Hath no fleetness;
There the maiden's heart
Hath no sweetness--
Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley,
Cheerily, oh!
Like your native fountain sally,
Cheerily, oh!
If a glorious death,
Won by bravery,
Sweeter be than breath
Sighed in slavery,
Round the flag of Freedom rally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

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