For a chief, with sword and shield, and helm,
To his place of slumber's gone.
"Thou art come from long forsaken homes,
Wherein our young days flew,
Thou hast found sweet voices lingering there,
The loved, the kind, the true!
Thou callest back those melodies,
Though now all changed and fled,
Be still, be still, and haunt us not
With music from the dead!