With torch-light and with anthem-note,
And many waving plumes:

But he, the last and noblest
Of that high Norman race,
With a few brief words of soldier-love
Was gather'd to his place;

In the shadow of the Pyramid,
Where his youthful form we laid,
When the battle-day was done,
And the Desert's parting sun
A field of death survey'd.

But let him, let him slumber
By the old Egyptian wave!
It is well with those who bear their fame
Unsullied to the grave!

When brightest names are breathed on,
When loftiest fall so fast,
We would not call our brother back
On dark days to be cast,

From the shadow of the Pyramid,
Where his noble heart we laid,
When the battle-day was done,
And the Desert's parting sun
A field of death survey'd.