Let those who heavy feel
The cupreous hand of fear
Under slavery’s yoke live;
Mettle and virtue is what
Freedom wants.

She (and myth belies the mind of truth)
Gave wings to Icarus.
But he,
Still winged,
Even though he fell
And drowned
In the sea,

Fell from high heights
And thus died free.

And if you become
The slaughter of a tyrant
With no honor,
Do think the grave as a horror.