THE FORGOTTEN.
Many a sword hath nobly wrought,Many a warrior bravely fought,Whose name the lyre hath never taughtTo swell his nation’s minstrelsy.In lonely woods their ashes sleep,Whose dewy leaves above them weep,And wild birds chant their dirges sweet—But none e’er list their melody.Oh, when we pledge our father’s fame,One flowing goblet let us drainTo those, the long forgotten slainWhose relics moulder silently;And o’er their foes, the warriors red,Who for their fenceless acres bled,Let none a tear refuse to shed—’Tis due to Nature’s chivalry.What more becomes a noble foe,Than o’er the brave, his sword laid low,To let the tears of sorrow flow?They glorify his victory.No deathless bard their valor blest,Or Paugus, Ajax of the West,And Philip had not sunk to rest,Enfolded in obscurity.
Many a sword hath nobly wrought,Many a warrior bravely fought,Whose name the lyre hath never taughtTo swell his nation’s minstrelsy.In lonely woods their ashes sleep,Whose dewy leaves above them weep,And wild birds chant their dirges sweet—But none e’er list their melody.Oh, when we pledge our father’s fame,One flowing goblet let us drainTo those, the long forgotten slainWhose relics moulder silently;And o’er their foes, the warriors red,Who for their fenceless acres bled,Let none a tear refuse to shed—’Tis due to Nature’s chivalry.What more becomes a noble foe,Than o’er the brave, his sword laid low,To let the tears of sorrow flow?They glorify his victory.No deathless bard their valor blest,Or Paugus, Ajax of the West,And Philip had not sunk to rest,Enfolded in obscurity.
Many a sword hath nobly wrought,Many a warrior bravely fought,Whose name the lyre hath never taughtTo swell his nation’s minstrelsy.In lonely woods their ashes sleep,Whose dewy leaves above them weep,And wild birds chant their dirges sweet—But none e’er list their melody.
Many a sword hath nobly wrought,
Many a warrior bravely fought,
Whose name the lyre hath never taught
To swell his nation’s minstrelsy.
In lonely woods their ashes sleep,
Whose dewy leaves above them weep,
And wild birds chant their dirges sweet—
But none e’er list their melody.
Oh, when we pledge our father’s fame,One flowing goblet let us drainTo those, the long forgotten slainWhose relics moulder silently;And o’er their foes, the warriors red,Who for their fenceless acres bled,Let none a tear refuse to shed—’Tis due to Nature’s chivalry.
Oh, when we pledge our father’s fame,
One flowing goblet let us drain
To those, the long forgotten slain
Whose relics moulder silently;
And o’er their foes, the warriors red,
Who for their fenceless acres bled,
Let none a tear refuse to shed—
’Tis due to Nature’s chivalry.
What more becomes a noble foe,Than o’er the brave, his sword laid low,To let the tears of sorrow flow?They glorify his victory.No deathless bard their valor blest,Or Paugus, Ajax of the West,And Philip had not sunk to rest,Enfolded in obscurity.
What more becomes a noble foe,
Than o’er the brave, his sword laid low,
To let the tears of sorrow flow?
They glorify his victory.
No deathless bard their valor blest,
Or Paugus, Ajax of the West,
And Philip had not sunk to rest,
Enfolded in obscurity.