Such was he whom we deplore. The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. The great World-victor's victor will be seen no Under the cross of gold That shines over city and river, There he shall rest for ever Among the wise and the bold. Let the bell be toll'd: And a reverent people behold The towering car, the sable steeds: Bright let it be with its blazon'd deeds, Dark in its funeral fold. Let the bell be toll'd: And a deeper knell in the heart be knoll'd; And the sound of the sorrowing anthem roll'd Thro' the dome of the golden cross ; And the volleying cannon thunder his loss; He knew their voices of old. For many a time in many a clime His captain's-ear has heard them boom When he with those deep voices wrought, Guarding realms and kings from shame; With those deep voices our dead captain taught The tyrant, and asserts his claim In that dread sound to the great name, Which he has worn so pure of blame, In praise and in dispraise the same, A man of well-attemper'd frame. To such a name, Preserve a broad approach of fame, And ever-echoing avenues of song. 6. Who is he that cometh, like an honour'd guest, With banner and with music, with soldier and with priest, With a nation weeping, and breaking on my rest? Mighty Seaman, this is he Was great by land as thou by sea. Thine island loves thee well, thou famous man, The greatest sailor since our world began. Now, to the roll of muffled drums, To thee the greatest soldier comes; For this is he Was great by land as thou by sea; O give him welcome, this is he Worthy of our gorgeous rites, This is he that far away Against the myriads of Assaye Clash'd with his fiery few and won; And underneath another sun, Warring on a later day, Round affrighted Lisbon drew The treble works, the vast designs Of his labour'd rampart-lines, Where he greatly stood at bay, Whence he issued forth anew, And ever great and greater grew, Back to France her banded swarms, Back to France with countless blows, Till o'er the hills her eagles flew Beyond the Pyrenean pines, Follow'd up in valley and glen With blare of bugle, clamour of men, Roll of cannon and clash of arms, And England pouring on her foes. Such a war had such a close. Again their ravening eagle rose In anger, wheel'd on Europe-shadowing wings, And barking for the thrones of kings ; Till one that sought but Duty's iron crown On that loud sabbath shook the spoiler down; A day of onsets of despair! Dash'd on every rocky square Their surging charges foam'd themselves away; Last, the Prussian trumpet blew ; Thro' the long-tormented air Heaven flash'd a sudden jubilant ray, And down we swept and charged and overthrew. So great a soldier taught us there, What long-enduring hearts could do |