| |
| THE MUFFLED drum was heard | |
| In the Pyrenees by night, | |
| With a dull, deep rolling sound, | |
| Which told the hamlets round | |
| Of a soldiers burial rite. | 5 |
| |
| But it told them not how dear, | |
| In a home beyond the main, | |
| Was the warrior youth laid low that hour | |
| By a mountain stream of Spain. | |
| |
| The oaks of England waved | 10 |
| Oer the slumbers of his race, | |
| But a pine of the Ronceval made moan | |
| Above his last, lone place; | |
| |
| When the muffled drum was heard | |
| In the Pyrenees by night, | 15 |
| With a dull, deep rolling sound, | |
| Which called strange echoes round | |
| To the soldiers burial rite. | |
| |
| Brief was the sorrowing there, | |
| By the stream from battle red, | 20 |
| And tossing on its wave the plumes | |
| Of many a stately head; | |
| |
| But a mothersoon to die | |
| And a sisterlong to weep | |
| Even then were breathing prayers for him | 25 |
| In that home beyond the deep; | |
| |
| While the muffled drum was heard | |
| In the Pyrenees by night, | |
| With a dull, deep rolling sound, | |
| And the dark pines mourned around | 30 |
| Oer the soldiers burial rite. | |
| |