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VIII.
THE SONG OF MINA'S SOLDIERS.
We heard thy name, O Mina!
Far thro' our hills it rang;
A sound more strong than tempests,
More keen than armour's clang.
The peasant left his vintage,
The shepherd grasp'd the spear—
—We heard thy name, O Mina!
The mountain bands are here.
As eagles to the day-spring,
As torrents to the sea,
From every dark Sierra
So rush'd our hearts to thee.
