Текст оригинала на английском языке
ENGLAND, the sound of weeping breaks thy rest,— The voice of women wailing o'er the slain, Whose generous blood hath purpled all in vain The Desert sands;—what victory unblest Is thine, proud nation thronèd by the West, Who, knowing most of men the costly gain Of freedom, dare to quell in dull disdain Hearts burning with its insults unredressed. England, those shrill accusing cries that broke The calm of the Arabian night, declare Thee banded with the ancient powers that yoke Life to the body of Death;—think what despair Of human justice in those cries awoke, What doubt of God made sick the desert air!
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