Their rich fruitage and their bloom;
But not one of them could claim him,
O'er the ocean's pathless foam
Faithful vessels bore him safely
Back again to friends and home.
Egypt's tombs nor India's temples
Shall his precious dust inclose;
Nor in Britain's ivied abbeys
Shall our sacred dead repose.
But his own, his native country,
Shall protect his lettered stone;
Proud Columbia, draped in mourning,
Claims her hero for her own.
Rest in peace thou veteran warrior,
All thy victories are past;
On thy ear shall no more thunder
Cannon's roar or trumpet's blast.
'Till thy peaceful, slumbering ashes,
Resting 'neath thy country's sod,
Shall awake with countless millions
At the mighty trump of God.
But not one of them could claim him,
O'er the ocean's pathless foam
Faithful vessels bore him safely
Back again to friends and home.
Egypt's tombs nor India's temples
Shall his precious dust inclose;
Nor in Britain's ivied abbeys
Shall our sacred dead repose.
But his own, his native country,
Shall protect his lettered stone;
Proud Columbia, draped in mourning,
Claims her hero for her own.
Rest in peace thou veteran warrior,
All thy victories are past;
On thy ear shall no more thunder
Cannon's roar or trumpet's blast.
'Till thy peaceful, slumbering ashes,
Resting 'neath thy country's sod,
Shall awake with countless millions
At the mighty trump of God.
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