Thy Days Are Done |
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Thy Days Are Done
Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country`s strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughter of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall`n, while we are free
Thou shalt not taste of death!
The generous blood that flow`d from thee
Disdain`d to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour`d!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.
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