 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
FILL HIGH THE CUP IN TRIUMPH.
A FESTAL LYRIC.
Fill high the cup in triumph, with laurel wreathe the bowl,
To drink the glorious victors of the famed Sebastopol;
The fight of right is bravely won, the Tyrant's squadrons fly,
His tow'rs that crown'd th' embattled steep in lowly ashes lie,
The ships that bore his murd'rous flag across the sable deep,
Were sunk in coward safety—where dishonor'd—let them sleep;
Above them, now, th' unfetter'd waves in bounding freedom roll,
And lash the prostrate ruins of the famed Sebastopol.
To drink the glorious victors of the famed Sebastopol;
The fight of right is bravely won, the Tyrant's squadrons fly,
His tow'rs that crown'd th' embattled steep in lowly ashes lie,
208
Were sunk in coward safety—where dishonor'd—let them sleep;
Above them, now, th' unfetter'd waves in bounding freedom roll,
And lash the prostrate ruins of the famed Sebastopol.
And when the savage North had dar'd defiance to the free,
How glorious was the high resolve of Western chivalry;
The foeman bold of days gone by shook hands in brave renown,
And in the cause of Freedom cast their stainless gauntless down:
'Gainst freedom, in the cause of right, 'twas vain for slaves to try,
And soon from Alma came the shout of glorious victory,
From Inkermann, Tchernaya too, and now, to crown the whole,
The flags of France and England float above Sebastopol.
How glorious was the high resolve of Western chivalry;
The foeman bold of days gone by shook hands in brave renown,
And in the cause of Freedom cast their stainless gauntless down:
'Gainst freedom, in the cause of right, 'twas vain for slaves to try,
And soon from Alma came the shout of glorious victory,
From Inkermann, Tchernaya too, and now, to crown the whole,
The flags of France and England float above Sebastopol.
Oh, 'tis a lesson timely giv'n, to be remember'd long,
How freedom's cause was blest by Heaven, and right prevail'd o'er wrong,
The falt'ring and the fallen may hide their heads in abject shame,
While honor crowns the victors who have play'd the noble game,
And won it, too—so fill the cup to toast the cause divine—
Our welcome friend Sardine will give a flavour to the wine,
Full as our triumph let us fill, and drink, with heart and soul,
That brotherhood of bravery that won Sebastopol.
How freedom's cause was blest by Heaven, and right prevail'd o'er wrong,
The falt'ring and the fallen may hide their heads in abject shame,
While honor crowns the victors who have play'd the noble game,
And won it, too—so fill the cup to toast the cause divine—
Our welcome friend Sardine will give a flavour to the wine,
Full as our triumph let us fill, and drink, with heart and soul,
That brotherhood of bravery that won Sebastopol.
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |