O Pride of the days in prime of the
Now trebled in great renown,
When before the ark of our holy
Fell Dagon down-Dagon foredoomed, who, armed and targed,
Never his impious heart
Beyond that hour;
God walled his power,
And there the last invader charged.
He charged, and in that charge
His all of hate and all of fire;
He sought to blast us in his scorn,
And wither us in his ire.
Before him went the shriek of shells-Aerial screamings, taunts and yells;
Then the three waves in flashed
Surged, but were met, and back they set:
Pride was repelled by sterner pride,
And Right is a strong-hold yet.
Before our lines it seemed a
Which wild September gales have
With havoc on wreck, and dashed
Pale crews unknown-Men, arms, and steeds.
The evening
Died on the face of each lifeless one,
And died along the winding marge of
And searching-parties lone.
Sloped on the hill the mounds were green,
Our centre held that place of graves,
And some still hold it in their swoon,
And over these a glory waves.
The warrior-monument, crashed in fight,
Shall soar transfigured in loftier light,
A meaning ampler bear;
Soldier and priest with hymn and
Have laid the stone, and every
Shall rest in honor there.
