Sonnet 79

When future generations of our sons,
From old Slavonia's ruins, shall re-build
Her temple—from the congregated stones
The bards shall speak; and be their songs fulfill'd!
Regenerate now your country—for its name
Is glory—shield her from a stranger's grasp,
And O! let never selfish avarice clasp
Slavonia in her arms of sinful shame!
To many members she hath one sole head—
Her nervous limbs from one sole body grow—
From one sole source her mingled waters flow!
Why should her sons through tortuous pathways lead?
Divide?—'twere nobler far—a close link'd band,
To claim one glorious, father-land.