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-attempered frame.
O civic muse, to such a name,
To such a name for ages long,
To such a name,

Preserve a broad approach of fame,
And ever-echoing avenues of song.

Was great by land as thou by sea;
His foes were thine; he kept us free;
O give him welcome, this is he
Worthy of our gorgeous rites,
And worthy to be laid by thee;
For this is England's greatest son,
He that gained a hundred fights,
Nor ever lost an English gun;
This is he that far away
Against the myriads of Assaye
Clashed 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 labored rampart-lines,
Where he greatly stood at bay,
Whence he issued forth anew,
And ever great and greater grew,
Beating from the wasted vines
Back to France her banded swarms,
Back to France with countless blows,
Till o'er the hills her eagles flew
Beyond the Pyrenean pines,

Followed up in valley and glen
With blare of bugle, clamor 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, wheeled on Europe-shadow-
ing 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!
Dashed on every rocky square
Their surging charges foamed them-
selves away;

Last, the Prussian trumpet blew; Through the long-tormented air Heaven flashed 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 In that world-earthquake, Waterloo! Mighty Seaman, tender and true, And pure as he from taint of craven guile,

O saviour of the silver-coasted isle, O shaker of the Baltic and the Nile, If aught of things that here befall Touch a spirit among things divine, If love of country move thee there at all,

Be glad, because his bones are laid by thine!

And thro' the centuries let a people's voice

In full acclaim,

A people's voice,

The proof and echo of all human fame,

A people's voice, when they rejoice At civic revel and pomp and game, Attest their great commander's claim

With honor, honor, honor, honor to him, Eternal honor to his name.

VII.

Remember him who led your hosts; He bade you guard the sacred coasts. Your cannons moulder on the seaward wall;

His voice is silent in your council

hall