Requiem Second

When death meets the chieftain ’midst victory’s hum, His fall is deplored by the trumpet and drum; But softer the music, and warmer the sighs, That waft pious soul’s to their throne in the skies.

O drear were our walks in the shadow of death, Till the star of Balclutha illumined our path! Like the planet of Bethel it gilded the night, Till it set in a halo of heavenly light.

Let bay deck the turf where the saint lowly lies, Like the symbol we scatter, his leaf never dies; For his fame in its innocence beauteously ’ray’d, Like the rose-bud of Jericho, never will fade.