My Native Land, Good Night!

Oh Who Can Tell, Save He Whose Heart Hath Tried.

Let None Think To Fly The Danger For Soon Or Late Love Is His Own Avenger.

Which Cheers The Sad, Revives The Old, Inspires The Young, Makes Weariness Forget His Toil, And Fear Her Danger; Opens A New World When This, The Present, Palls.

The Thorns Which I Have Reap'd Are Of The Tree I Planted; They Have Torn Me, And I Bleed. I Should Have Known What Fruit Would Spring From Such A Seed.

The French Courage Proceeds From Vanity