The Hero’s Grave

Bear on the Hero to his resting place, The tomb of honour that his deeds have won; His glorious obsequies the nations grace, And million hearts are beating now as one. Hark! to the trumpets’ sound! Hark! to the muffled drum! The dead-march pealing its deep notes around Proclaims—his ashes come! High on a trophied car, Beneath a gorgeous canopy, Behold the coffin borne; And glittering bright afar, His mighty sword of victory, Reminds how deep we mourn! No more that dauntless hand and heart Will wield its lightning-blade; No more that warrior’s thunder-voice Will marshall hosts arrayed, In Battle’s iron panoply, To fight for freedom and the free! Age was upon his brow, The glory of white hairs; ’Twas for our fathers that he fought, And to the lasting peace he bought We long have been the heirs! We were but children when His mightier deeds were done; The rising greatness of his name, His Indian glory, Spanish fame, Through mists of time, so distant gleam, They seem of th’ ages gone! Yet will those deeds survive— The glorious combats of Assaye, Of Badajos, Vittoria, And more as bright, in long array, By Fame he kept alive. But that, the greatest and the best, Which bade mankind with peace be blest. As in the earth’s young prime— The crown of all, great Waterloo— A sound to make the heart rejoice, Shall with a mighty prophet-voice Go sweeping on through time!— The warrior sheathed his sword, But loved his country still, And sought by statesman-skill, Diplomacy and counsel sage, To aid her in a peaceful age, And with determined will A patriots love fulfil. Oh hear him lift his voice, War’s horrors to proclaim, And speak the words of peace! A man denouncing war That gave him gorgeous fame? Ye Kings and Emperors hear! Then bid your jarrings cease, And learn how greater far To bind your aweful brows With olive crown of peace, Than the laurel wreath of war! Oh, world! this lesson learn, Let this holier truth prevail, Till amidst each teeming vale, And along each fertile plain, The accursed sound of war Shall be never heard again!— But the cavalcade comes on, The great hero on his car, With the trumpet and the muffled drum, And the death-march pealing far. Where shall we find a grave For this king of warrior-men; Where, amidst the great and brave Of the land, he fought to save, His mighty dust may mingle, With its kindred dust again? In the Nation’s greatest temple, Beneath her highest dome, Let the hero, sage, and statesman There find a fitting tomb. Let the warrior of the earth, And the warrior of the sea, Slumber calmly side by side, ’Neath that gorgeous canopy. Let Wellington and Nelson, Unite and mingle dust, As in Britain’s glorious story Their bright fames for ever must. In death they lie together— Yea bone to bone is nigh! Oh have their glorious spirits met In the living world on high? For there each noble feeling, That fills our earthly hearts From fetters free, more full in strength To higher being starts. May not the hero-sages, Who’ve loved their native land, E’en to the death, in yon bright realm, Compose one radiant band. We dare not limit Mercy— Truth’s power to purify— Nor judge the heart—which none can know But the Omnipresent eye.— Oh have their mighty spirits met In the living world on high?— Hark! in solemn music stealing Through the sable-curtained pile, Loudly swells the mournful anthem Down each broad-arched, columned aisle. ’Tis a requiem for the dead, To his dark tomb onward lead, Whilst a nation bows the head With a heart-consuming sorrow, That no forms of grief need borrow, Bending o’er the sacred bier, There heaving forth the sigh, and there letting fall the tear. Amid an aweful silence The priestly voice hath said, Now “Ashes unto ashes, And dust to kindred dust,” Whilst on the coffin dashes, With dull sound, the crumbled mould, But strikes the heart more strongly Than if a knell had tolled. Then prayers and hymns and anthems Again from thousands rise, Loud sounding through that mighty dome And seem to pierce the skies! Farewell, then, noble Hero, The last tribute we can pay Above thy once commanding form, We’ve offered thee this day, The witness of a nation’s love, Esteem for thy desert, And promise to remember thee All uttered from the heart. We ne’er shall see this noble dome, Ascend gigantic to the clouds, But deem it as the monument Of that great hero it enshrouds. Our thoughts will often on thy virtues dwell, Thy dauntless courage, and puissant arm. We will thy glories to our children tell, And they to theirs, to bind them as a charm To love the bold, the noble, and the free, And every virtue bright, the world was taught by thee!