Gallant nation, foiled by numbers! Say not that your hopes are fled; Keep that glorious flag which slumbers, One day to avenge your dead. Keep it, widowed, sonless mothers! Keep it, sisters, mourning brothers! Furl it now, but keep it still-- Think not that its work is done. Keep it till your children take it, Once again to hall and make it, All their sires have bled and fought for; All their noble hearts have sought for-- Bled and fought for all alone! All alone! ay, shame the story! Millions here deplore the stain; Shame, alas! for England's glory, Freedom called, and called in vain! Furl that banner, sadly, slowly, Treat it gently, for 'tis holy; Till that day--yes, furl it sadly; Then once more unfurl it gladly-- Conquered banner! keep it still!
