Page:National Lyrics.pdf/47

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"Each pillar's massy bed   Hath been wet by weeping eyes— Away! bestow your dead    Where no wrong against him cries."

—Shame glowed on each dark face Of those proud and steel-girt men, And they bought with gold a place For their leader's dust e'en then.

A little earth for him Whose banner flew so far! And a peasant's tale could dim The name, a nation's star!

One deep voice thus arose From a heart which wrongs had riven, Oh! who shall number those That were but heard in heaven?