I.

"Come from my _First_, ay, come! The battle dawn is nigh; And the screaming trump and the thundering drum Are calling thee to die! Fight as thy father fought; Fall as thy father fell; Thy task is taught; thy shroud is wrought, So; forward and farewell!

"Toll ye my _Second_! toll! Fling high the flambeau's light; And sing the hymn for a parted soul Beneath the silent night! The wreath upon his head, The cross upon his breast, Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed, So,--take him to his rest!

"Call ye my _Whole_, ay, call, The lord of lute and lay; And let him greet the sable pall With a noble song to-day; Go, call him by his name! No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame On the turf of a soldier's grave.