A health to the brave, in fields afar
Sweet Freedom's foes assailing;
And high your choral burden bear
Their names with honours hailing
What meed awaits the fallen brave?
A nation's tears to dew them
And bards the blooming flowers to weave
And virgin hands to strew them

But what their meed to whom return
In triumph's ear is granted?
Beside their comrade's laurel'd urn
To see the olive planted
To hear the good, the great, the fair
Rich notes of rapture pealing
That hig the choral burden bear
Their names with honours hailing