Poems (Welby)/My Own Native Land
MY OWN NATIVE LAND.
O! talk not to me of fair Italy's sky,
Of the soft perfumed gales, that through Araby sigh;
I know there is not on this wide-spreading earth
A land bright and free as this land of my birth;
We have our mild zephyrs and bright sunny beams,
Our fruits and our flowers, fair valleys and streams;
Thy rocks and thy mountains are lofty and grand,
And brave are thy children, my own native land.
Of the soft perfumed gales, that through Araby sigh;
I know there is not on this wide-spreading earth
A land bright and free as this land of my birth;
We have our mild zephyrs and bright sunny beams,
Our fruits and our flowers, fair valleys and streams;
Thy rocks and thy mountains are lofty and grand,
And brave are thy children, my own native land.
If cowards and tyrants e'er seek to enchain,
And bring to the dust our proud spirits again;
Thy sons, still united, will rally for thee,
And die, as they've lived, the exalted and free!
O! had I the strength of my heart in my hand,
I'd fight for thy freedom, my own native land;
Amid thy oppressors undaunted I'd fly,
And fling forth our banner in triumph on high!
And bring to the dust our proud spirits again;
Thy sons, still united, will rally for thee,
And die, as they've lived, the exalted and free!
O! had I the strength of my heart in my hand,
I'd fight for thy freedom, my own native land;
Amid thy oppressors undaunted I'd fly,
And fling forth our banner in triumph on high!