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NATIONAL LYRICS.
I feel thy tears, I feel thy breath,
I meet thy fond look still;
Keen is the strife of love and death;
Faint and yet fainter grows my bosom's thrill.
Yet swells the tide of rapture strong,
Tho' mists o'ershade mine eye;
—Sing, Pæan! sing a conqueror's song!
For thee, for thee, my spirit's lord, I die!"
