Trail all your pikes, dispirit every drum,
March in a slow procession from afar,
Ye silent, ye dejected men of war!
Be still the hautboys, and the route be dumb!
Display no more, in vain, the lofty banner;
For see! where on the bier before you lies
The pale, the fall'n, the untimely sacrifice
To your mistaken shrine, to your false idol Honour.
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