And joyous hearts were strong;
Now that alike the feeble and the brave
Must cry, “We perish!”—Father, hear and save!
The days of song are fled!
The winds come loaded, wafting dirge-notes by;
But they that linger soon unmourn’d must die—
The dead weep not the dead!
Wilt thou forsake us midst the stormy wave?
We sink, we perish!—Father, hear and save!
Helmet and lance are dust!