With an empire's lamentation, Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. II. Where shall we lay the man whom we deplore? Echo round his bones for evermore. 10 III. Lead out the pageant: sad and slow, Let the long long procession go, And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow, IV. Mourn, for to us he seems the last, O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fall'n at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew ! The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. The great World-victor's victor will be seen no more. 20 30 40 All is over and done : V. Render thanks to the Giver, Let the bell be toll'd. That shines over city and river, And a reverent people behold The towering car, the sable steeds: Bright let it be with its blazon'd deeds, Let the bell be toll'd: 50 And a deeper knell in the heart be knoll'd ; And the sound of the sorrowing anthem roll'd 60 Thro' the dome of the golden cross; And the volleying cannon thunder his loss; To such a name, Preserve a broad approach of fame, And ever-echoing avenues of song. VI. Who is he that cometh, like an honour'd guest, 80 With banner and with music, with soldier and with priest, With a nation weeping, and breaking on my rest? 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; Was great by land as thou by sea; 90 Against the myriads of Assaye Clash'd with his fiery few and won; 100 And underneath another sun, Warring on a later day, Back to France her banded swarms, 110 Back to France with countless blows, Till o'er the hills her eagles flew And England pouring on her foes. Again their ravening eagle rose In anger, wheel'd on Europe-shadowing wings, 120 And barking for the thrones of kings; Till one that sought but Duty's iron crown On that loud sabbath shook the spoiler down; Dash'd on every rocky square Their surging charges foam'd themselves away; Thro' the long-tormented air Heaven flash'd a sudden jubilant ray, And down we swept and charged and overthrew. 130 So great a soldier taught us there, What long-enduring hearts could do In that world-earthquake, Waterloo ! 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 love of country move thee there at all, 140 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, |