THE CRUSADER'S SONG.
"Remember the Holy Sepulchre."
Forget the land which gave ye birth—
Forget the womb that bore ye—
Forget each much-loved spot of earth—
Forget each dream of glory—
Forget the friends that by your side
Stood firm as rocks unbroken—
Forget the late affianced bride,
And every dear love token—
Forget the hope that in each breast
Glow'd like a smould'ring ember—
But still the Holy Sepulchre,
Remember! oh remember!
Remember all the vows ye've sworn
At holy Becket's altar—
Remember all the ills ye've borne,
And scorn'd to shrink or falter—
Remember every laurel'd field,
Which saw the Crescent waving—
Remember when compell'd to yield,
Uncounted numbers braving:
Remember these, remember too
The cause ye strive for, ever;
The Cross! the Holy Sepulchre!
Forget—forget them never!
By Him who in that Sepulchre
Was laid in Death's cold keeping—
By Her who bore, who rear'd him. Her
Who by that Cross sat weeping—
By those, whose blood so oft has cried
Revenge for souls unshriven!—
By those, whose sacred precepts guide
The path to yonder Heaven!
From youth to age, from morn to eve
From Spring-tide to December,
The Holy Sepulchre of Christ
Remember! oh remember!
Literary Remains of Henry Neele.