Ah, Victory! joyful Victory!
Like Love, thou bringest sorrow;
But, O! for such an hour with thee,
Who would not die to-morrow?
Brave hearts, with noble feelings flushed;
In valour's ruddy riot
But yesterday! how are ye hushed
Beneath the smile of quiet!
For us they poured their blood like wine,
From life's ripe-gathered clusters;
And far through History's night shall shine
Their deeds with starriest lustres.
Ah, Victory! joyful Victory!
Like Love, thou bringest sorrow;
But, O! for such an hour with thee,
Who would not die to-morrow?
We laid them not in churchyard home,
Beneath our darling daisies:
Where to their grave-mounds Love might come,
And sit and sing their praises.
But soothly sweet shall be their rest
Where Victory's hands have crowned them
To Earth our Mother's bosom pressed,
And Heaven's arms around them.
Ah, Victory! joyful Victory!
Like Love, thou bringest sorrow;
But, O! for such an hour with thee,
Who would not die to-morrow?
Yes, there they lie 'neath Alma's sod,
On pillows dark and gory--
As brave a host as ever trod
Old England's path to glory.
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