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Thomas Moore - Oh, the Sight Entrancing
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Oh, the sight entrancing, 
When morning`s beam is glancing 
O`er files array`d 
With helm and blade, 
And plumes in the gay wind dancing! 
When hearts are all high beating 
And the trumpet`s voice repeating 
That song, whose breath 
May lead to death, 
But never to entreating. 
Oh, the sight entrancing, 
When morning`s beam is glancing 
O`er files array`d 
With helm and blade, 
And plumes in the gay wind dancing! 

Yet, tis not helm or feather — 
For ask yon despot, whether 
His plumed bands 
Could bring such hands 
And hearts as ours together. 
Leave pomps to those who need `em — 
Give man but heart and freedom, 
And proud he braves 
The gaudiest slaves 
That crawl where monarchs lead `em. 
The sword may pierce the beaver, 
Stonewalls in time may sever, 
`Tis mind alone, 
Worth steel and stone, 
That keeps men free for ever. 
Oh, that sight entrancing, 
When the morning`s beam is glancing, 
O`er files array`d 
With helm and blade, 
And in Freedom`s cause advancing!
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