SONG.

Fill the cup to the ghosts of the dead! The sage and the hero of old:— The men who for liberty bled, Unaw’d, uncorrupted by gold. CHORUS. Their mem’ries we’ll cherish, Their names ne’er shall perish, The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:— The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d! Strike the harp to the praise of the dead! With songs their high honors proclaim:— Our valiant forefathers! who bled For country, and freedom, and fame. Their mem’ries we’ll cherish, Their names ne’er shall perish, The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:— The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d! Chant a dirge to the shades of the dead! The worthies of Albion’s story: But let no weak tears be shed; They rest in the light of their glory. Their mem’ries we’ll cherish, Their names ne’er shall perish, The rights which they won shall by us be preserv’d:— The glory they earn’d shall by us be deserv’d!