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NATIONAL LYRICS.
Pray! pray! pray!
What other task have mortals, born to tears,
Whom fate controls, with adamantine sway?
O ruler of the spheres!
Jove! Jove! enthroned immortally on high,
Our supplication hear!
Nor plunge in bitterest woes,
Him, who nor footstep moves, nor lifts his eye,
But as a child, which only knows
Its father to revere.
