And home our steps may turn,—
Home!—home!—if still that name be dear,
Praise to the men who perish’d here!
Look on the white Alps round!
Up to their shining snows
That day the stormy rolling sound,
The sound of battle, rose!
Their caves prolong’d the trumpet’s blast,
Their dark pines trembled as it pass’d!
They saw the princely crest,