Of death like theirs, for life like thine?
They slumber—and the stranger’s tread
May spurn thy country’s noble dead;
Yet, on the land they loved so well,
Still shall their burning spirit dwell,
Their deeds shall hallow minstrel’s theme,
Their image rise on warrior’s dream,
Their names be inspiration’s breath,
Kindling high hope and scorn of death,
Till bursts, immortal from the tomb,