Here, by the stroke of steel, behold! they lie-
And rightly may we cry
Beside their fathers, let them here be laid-
Iron gave their doom, witk iron their graves be
made-
A lack, the slaying sword, alack, th' entombing
spade!
Alas, a piercing shriek, a rending groan,
A cry unfeigned of sorrow felt at heart!
With shuddering of grief, with tears that start,
With wailful escort, let them hither come-
For one or other make divided moan!
No light lament of pity mixed with gladness,
But with true tears, poured from the soul of sadness,
Over the princes dead and their bereaved home
Say we, above these brethren dead,
On citizen, on foreign foe,
Brave was their rush, and stern their blow-
Now, lowly are they laid!
Beyond all women upon earth
Woe, woe for her who gave them birth!
Unknowingly, her son she wed-
The children of that marriage-bed,
Each in the self-same womb, were bred-
Each by a brother's hand lies dead!
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