On their young brows, when men shall speak of him
They call’d their father! Was the oath whereby,
On th’ altar of my faith, I bound myself
With an unswerving spirit to maintain
This free and Christian city for my God
And for my king, a writing traced on sand?
That passionate tears should wash it from the earth,
Or e’en the life-drops of a bleeding heart
Efface it, as a billow sweeps away
The last light vessel’s wake? Then never more