In all thy churches, City of La Valette,

Hide nobler heart and brain?

Ah! had his soul been cold,

Tempered to make a sycophant or spy, 10

To love hard truth less than an easy lie,

His country less than gold,—

Then, not the spirit’s strife,

Nor sickening pangs at sight of conquering crime,

Nor anxious watching of an evil time, 15

Had worn his chords of life: