A song for the death-day of the brave br A song of pride! br The youth went down to a hero's grave, br With the sword, his bride. br br He went, with his noble heart unworn, br And pure, and high; br An eagle stooping from clouds of morn, br Only to die! br br He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone br Beneath his hand br Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone, br And his Father-land. br br And with all his glorious feelings yet br In their first glow, br Like a southern stream that no frost hath met br To chain its flow. br br A song for the death-day of the brave br A song of pride! br For him that went to a hero's grave, br With the sword, his bride. br br He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays br To turn the flight, br And a guiding spirit for after days, br Like a watch-fire's light. br br And a grief in his father's soul to rest, br Midst all high thought; br And a memory unto his mother's breast, br With healing fraught.