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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, lasting father-land.
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