On which the moonbeams sweetly slept—
By which the green and graceful palm,
Rose ever stately still and calm—
There did the monarch’s heart-strings quiver—
For lo! the victor wept!
Yea, wept, though all the nations rendered
Meek homage to his sovereign will;
His soldier-bands their king adored—
And all victorious with his sword,
’Mid trophies, crowns, and laurels splendid—