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Morrer en brando leito,
Entre molentes brondas,
Rodeados d' amigos,
Q'o pracer nos recordan;
De tímidas doncellas,
Imbeles e chorosas,
Que pra mayor dozura,
Na nosa última hora,
Ó redor de nos ceiben,
Lirios e brandas rosas;
Certo he desparecer cal vírgen tímida,
Brandamente, e sin gloria.
Oh' quen morrer poidera,
Coma o forte Leónidas;
Envolto en duro ferro,
N'outras rudas Thermópilas;!
Por unha pátria escura
D'escravos e d'ilotas;
E deixar, cal cometa,
Longo rastro de gloria!
E caíra, non prono,
Coa faz a terra volta,
Mais as turmas conversa,
Audaz e miazosa;
Ainda apreixando o rutilante ferro,
Que verte gota á gota!
De modo, q'o viandante,
Vendo con gran zozobra,
Crubir a dura terra,
A cinza poderosa,
Dixéra con espanto:—Certamente
Este era grande cousa!
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To die on downy bed
Among soft blonde silk laces
Surrounded by friends
That bring pleasure to our mind—
By shy damsels
Feeble and teary-eyed
Who for greater sweetness
In our final hour
Scatter about us
Lilies and soft roses—
Truly 't is to pass away like a shy virgin
Delicately and without glory.
O who could die
Like stout Leonidas
Girt about with hard iron
In some other savage Thermopylae!
For an obscure country
Of disenfranchised and slaves
And like a comet leave behind
Long trail of glory!
And I should not fall prone,
Face to the ground,
But toward the enemy ranks turned
Bold and menacing,
Clasping still the gleaming iron
Which trills drop by drop!
So that the traveller
Upon seeing with great distress
The mighty ash
Cover the hard ground
Should remark alarmed, "Surely
This one was something great!"
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