By Luis G. Dato

Plebian Sire, who Freedom’s bolo drew,
Whose cry to battle death to tyrant’s told,
Whose hero soul can still our conscience hold
With the same power that Tondo’s rebels knew.
Who rose compelling high among the few
Unerring prophets of a vision bold,
Whose arms a nation seized from hands grown cold,
And, pressing onward, with them smote and slew.
Balintawak was like a bugle call
To arms against the proud Iberian throne,
The heart was you, the soul Jose Rizal,
The vision his, the dauntless sword your own,
For in you lodged the thunder of Taal,
And the ensconced, bright lightning of Mayon.

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