England! Not vainly yet
Thine eyes with sorrow wet
For solace crave:
Still in hearts true as gold,
And, like their fathers, bold,
Beats the swift blood of the old:
Honour the brave!

Yet, ere victorious days
Set all thy heart ablaze,
Fear not tomorrow!
Soon shall thy strong men's might
Make thy proud 'scutcheon bright,
Therefore, tho' dark the night,
Smile thro' thy sorrow!

Wail, pipes of Scotland, wail,
For those who, doomed to fail,
Went to the grave:
Tho' theirs no victor's crown,
Well were their lives laid down:
Cherish their fair renown!
Honour the brave!

Honour, too, those who fell,
Plunging thro' storms of shell
Their guns to save:
Forget not how they died
(By their cause sanctified):
Oh, stoop not from thy pride!
Honour the brave!