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The Song Book |
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Far o'er the plain, Loudly again, Sounds the trumpet's warlike strain,
A signal to depart Yet, dearest, when I 'm far from thee, In death, defeat, or victory, Thy form alone shall ever be
Still nearest to my heart! In the battle field, With spear to spear, and shield to shield, When we have made the Saxon yield,
And bend his haughty knee, Then will my true and faithful heart,
At glory's call now doom'd to part, Forsaking spear and shield and dart,
Come fondly back to thee !
Words (translated from Talhaiarn) by Oliphant. Tune Love's Fascination.
From Thomas's Welsh Melodies. |
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