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Rh Have won for him, on many a field of fame, The immortality of a victor’s name. His troops, in thousands, now are marching by, Heart-homage seen in each saluting eye, And sword, and lance, and banner, bowing down In tributary grace, before his bright renown. And on, and on, as rank on rank appears, Come, fast and loud, the thrice-repeated cheers From voices of brave men whose life-long cry Has been with him to live, for him to die. Their plumes and pennons dancing in the breeze, With leaves and flowers of overarching trees, Timing their steps to tunes of flute and fife, And trump and drum, the joy of soldier life, While o’er them wave, proud banner of the free! Thy sky-born stars and glorious colors three, All beauteous in each interwoven hue Of summer’s rainbow, spanning earth and sea, The rose’s red and white, the violet’s heavenly blue, Emblems of valor, purity, and truth, Long may they charm the air in ever-smiling youth! And now the rearmost files are hurrying by, Closing the gorgeous scene of pomp and pageantry; And far, far off, on wings of distance borne, Speed the faint echoes of the trump and horn, Plaintively breathing partings and farewells, Solemn and sad as tones of tocsin-bells, But triumphed o’er by voices that prolong The wild war-music of the manlier song,