A Tribute to the Brave

Though furled be the banner of blood on the plain,
And rusted the sabre once crimsoned with gore;
Though hushed be the ravens that croaked o'er the slain,
And calmed into silence the battle's loud roar;
Though Peace with her rosy smile gladden the vales,
And commerce unshackled dance over the wave;
Though music and song may enliven the gales,
And Joy crown with roses and myrtle the brave;
Like spirits that start from the sleep of the dead,
Our heroes shall rouse—when the larum shall blow;
Then Freedom's broad flag on the wind shall be spread,
And Valour's sword flash in the face of the foe.
Our Eagle shall rise 'mid the whirlwinds of war,
And dart through the dun-cloud of battle his eye—
Shall spread his wide wings on the tempest afar
O'er spirits of valour that conquer or die.
And ne'er shall the rage of the conflict be o'er,
And ne'er shall the warm blood of life cease to flow,
And still 'mid the smoke of the battle shall soar
Our Eagle—till scattered and fled be the foe.
When peace shall disarm war's dark brow of its frown,
And roses shall bloom on the soldier's rude grave—
Then Honour shall weave of the laurel a crown,
That Beauty shall bind on the brow of the brave.