O Pride of the days in prime of the months

    Now trebled in great renown¹，

    When before the ark of our holy cause

    Fell Dagon down-

    Dagon foredoomed， who， armed and targed，

    Never his impious heart enlarged

    Beyond that hour； God walled his power，

    And there the last invader² charged.

    He charged， and in that charge condensed

    His all of hate and all of fire；

    He sought to blast us in his scorn，

    And wither³ us in his ire.

    Before him went the shriek⁴ of shells-

    Aerial screamings， taunts⁵ and yells；

    Then the three waves in flashed advance

    Surged， but were met， and back they set：

    Pride was repelled⁶ by sterner pride，

    And Right is a strong-hold yet.

    Before our lines it seemed a beach

    Which wild September gales⁷ have strown

    With havoc⁸ on wreck⁹， and dashed therewith

    Pale crews unknown-

    Men， arms， and steeds. The evening sun

    Died on the face of each lifeless one，

    And died along the winding¹⁰ marge of fight

    And searching-parties lone¹¹.

    Sloped on the hill the mounds¹² were green，

    Our centre held that place of graves，

    And some still hold it in their swoon，

    And over these a glory waves.

    The warrior-monument， crashed in fight，

    Shall soar transfigured in loftier light，

    A meaning ampler bear；

    Soldier and priest with hymn¹³ and prayer

    Have laid the stone， and every bone

    Shall rest in honor there.

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