The Tear, Down Childhood's Cheek That Flows,

Steady Of Heart And Stout Of Hand.

In The Name Of God!" Said Gurth, "how Came They Prisoners? And To Whom?" "our Master Was Too Ready To Fight," Said The Jester, "and Athelstane Was Not Ready Enough, And No Other Person Was Ready At All.

Hard Toil Can Roughen Form And Face, And Want Call Quench The Eye's Bright Grace.

Profan'd The God-given Strength, And Marr'd The Lofty Line.

Stood For His Country's Glory Fast, And Nailed Her Colors To The Mast!