And as the shades of even fall upon this day of strife
That heap of slain exceedeth far the foes he slew in life.
And when a sneering alien tongue shall speak of him with scorn,
Or hint at our decaying might, the child as yet unborn
Shall beard the dastard to his teeth, and tell exultingly
How like the Israelite in death was "Samson" Burnaby.
Intriguing Russia's prestige waned in far-off Persia's State
When England's lonely horseman stood at Khiva's guarded gate,
Ay! Bruin of the northern steppes, roll forth thy fœtid breath:
Exult since now that lion heart is stilled for aye in death;