Fill the cup to the ghosts of the dead!
The sage and the hero of old:—
The men who for liberty bled,
Unaw’d, uncorrupted by gold.
CHORUS.
Their mem’ries we’ll cherish,
Their names ne’er shall perish,
The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:—
The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d!
Strike the harp to the praise of the dead!
With songs their high honors proclaim:—
Our valiant forefathers! who bled
For country, and freedom, and fame.
Their mem’ries we’ll cherish,
Their names ne’er shall perish,
The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:—
The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d!
Chant a dirge to the shades of the dead!
The worthies of Albion’s story:
But let no weak tears be shed;
They rest in the light of their glory.
Their mem’ries we’ll cherish,
Their names ne’er shall perish,
The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:—
The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d!