By banners in the red field borne—
By hearts from bleeding bosoms torn—
By hate-lit eye—and lowering brow—
By lifted hand—and solemn vow—
I charm thee from repose—and doom
Thine ashes to a restless tomb,
Till from the shelter of the grave
Thy hand shall give the boon I crave!
By this o’ershadowing vine, whose stem
Gives to the wind thy requiem—