Our many-voiced acclaim shall here unlock
Time’s chest of honors, proffering what is thine.
Thy name is with the glorious names that shine
O’er War’s red flood, a beacon on a rock.
Thy soul, which bore its hour’s consummate shock.
All valorous thou did’st to fame consign.
Sheathed be the blade, nor seek through blood a name
Our foes are of our household; mingled rife
Through hourly needs there rings the vital strife
With doubt and sin, the lust of honor, shame: