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And arraign ye as our murderers, the spoilers of our land.

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PALE victims, where is your Fatherland?

Where oppression is law from age to age,

Where the death-plague, and hunger, and misery rage.

And tyrants a godless warfare wage

'Gainst the holiest rights of an ancient land

Where the corn waves green on the fair hillside,

But each sheaf by the serfs and slavelings tied

Is taken to pamper a foreigner's pride—

There is our suffering Fatherland.

Where broad rivers flow 'neath a glorious sky,

And the valleys like gems of emerald lie;

Yet, the young men, and strong men, starve and die,

For want of bread in their own rich land.

And we pile up their corpses, heap on heap,

While the pale mothers faint, and the children weep;

Yet, the living might envy the dead their sleep,

So bitter is life in that mourning land.

Oh! Heaven ne'er looked on a sadder scene;

Earth shuddered to hear that such woe had been;

Then we prayed, in despair, to a foreign queen,

For leave to live on our own fair land.