From the old robber bearing you away,
England who once the cross for valour gave you,
Honours you with tears to-day.
What is the epitaph which shall be found him?
Let this story of his lost life tell,
All hearts that knew him to-day around him
Whisp’ring, “Kind friend, farewell.”
Erin, a vigil o’er her dead son keeping,
Now takes him softly, sadly to her breast,
Under her grassy mantle hides him sleeping,