Thy Days are Done by Lord Byron — Read

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I / Thy days are done, thy fame begun; / Thy country's strains record / The triumphs of her chosen Son, / The slaughters of his sword! / The deeds he did, the fields he won, / The freedom he restored!

II / Though thou art fall'n, while we are free / Thou shall not taste of death! / The generous blood that flowed from thee / Disdained to sink beneath: / Within our veins its currents be, / Thy spirit on our breath!

III / Thy name, our charging hosts along, / Shall be the battle-word! / Thy fall, the theme of choral song / From virgin voices poured! / To weep would do thy glory wrong: / Thou shalt not be deplored.

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