B I. JURY the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation, To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. II. Where shall we lay the man whom we deplore? Here, in streaming London's central roar. Let the sound of those he wrought for, And the feet of those he fought for, III. Lead out the pageant: sad and slow, Let the long, long procession go, And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow, IV. Mourn, for to us he seems the last, O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fallen at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew ! Such was he whom we deplore. The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er. The great World-victor's victor will be seen no more. All is over and done: V. Render thanks to the Giver, Let the bell be tolled. Render thanks to the Giver, That shines over city and river, And a reverent people behold The towering car, the sable steeds: Dark in its funeral fold. Let the bell be tolled: And a deeper knell in the heart be knolled; For many a time in many a clime His captain's ear has heard them boom Bellowing victory, bellowing doom; When he with those deep voices wrought, Guarding realms and kings from shame; In that dread sound to the great name, N In praise and in dispraise the same, Preserve a broad approach of fame, And ever-ringing avenues of song. VI. Who is he that cometh, like an honored guest, With banner and with music, with soldier and with priest, With a nation weeping, and breaking on my rest? Mighty seaman, this is he Was great by land as thou by sea. Thine island loves thee well, thou famous man, The greatest sailor since our world began. Now, to the roll of muffled drums, To thee the greatest soldier comes; Was great by land as thou by sea; And underneath another sun, |