Trail all your pikes, dispirit every drum,
March in a slow procession from afar,
Ye silent, ye dejectd men of war!
Be still the hautboys, and the flute be dumb!
Display no more, in vain, the lofty banner.
For see! where on the bier before ye lies
The pale, the fall’n, th’untimely sacrifice
To your mistaken shrine, to your false idol Honour.