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Canto III. Sonnet 62
A hundred times I spoke, but now I call To you divided, O Slavonians! Let’s be a whole and not a part in clans; Be one in harmony or naught at all.
A dove-like nation we in scorn are styled. But doves you know are come of such a stock That loves to live within a common flock, And so may you apply this trait reviled.
O Slavs, thou race of many fragments! United forces e’er results will show, But waste and dry the circling currents.
O Slavs, who are of many heads a race! The wise indeed a death no worse can know Than life that sloth, void, darkness doth embrace.
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