Our Heroes

AH, weep not for the Heroes whom we never more
shall see;
Ah, weep we were not with them in their ruddy
revelry!
God of Battles! but 'twere glorious to have mounted
Victory's Car,
When the Chivalry of England smote the squadrons
of the Czar!

'Tis brave, while banners wave, to be where Freedom's
Champions are,
And burst upon the Enemy like Gods from clouds of
war!
Our Old Land beauteous leans above her darlings as
they die,
And, bosom'd in her arms of love, her slain ones
richly lie.

We blessed them for the Battle, who but marcht to
the Bier;
Some were riper for the Bridal — some were Fathers
grey and sere;
With a kiss for Child and Wife, some went out in
War's red wrack;
And to the land that gives us life, who'd grudge to
give it back!

I had a gallant Brother, loved at home, and dear to
me —
I have a mourning Mother/ winsome Wife, and
Children three —
He lies with Balaklava's dead. But let the Old Land
call,
We would give our living remnant, we would follow
one and all!

We speak a few weak words; but, the great hearts
gone to God,
They have fought with their Swords — won our battles
red wet-shod!
While we sat at home, brave laurels for our Land
they went to win;
And with smiles Valhalla lightens as our Heroes
enter in.

They bore our banner fearless to the death, as to the
fight,
They lifted England peerless to the old heroic height.
We weep not for the Heroes whom we never more
shall see, —
We weep we were not with them in their ruddy
revelry.