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Not for the hope of glory,
Nor for desire of loot,
Not for the pride of conquest,
Nor dream of wild pursuit;
But because ancient battles
Stir in our memory,
Hopeless as went our fathers
And stern as they, go we.

Maybe that we shall drive them,
Maybe we fight in vain,
We care not now our fathers
Are born in us again.
When the old voices called us
We heard them and obeyed,
Whether we die or conquer
We have not been afraid.