Great Eagle, fold your wings awhile and turn away your eyes; in smoke and thunder, flame and blood your Best and Highest dies; and all His happy Land, his great emprise, a shattered wreck of ugly ruin lies.
Great Eagle, flee a little while to some far lonely height. There shall you watch and wait... your land is sunk in night: and all those cities bright in ruins far and wide torment the night.
Oh, Eagle, did you hear that shout, that thundered triple roar? Its clamourous echoes smote the earth and rolled from shore to shore; and all those glorious Dead, who fealty swore,
received him hime: his earthly flight is over.
His flight, that made the nations shake, and hearts and pulses leap, is over... now he rests, but we are sunk in anguish deep, he rests at last, no dreams torture his sleep. While grave-eyed Angel-guards their watches keep.
Great Eagle, that He worked to save, and fought to guard, and died, flee from this piteous German wreck, in some far corner hide, until the land is free and far and wide. Throughout the world His name is glorified.
Meanwhile, we hold the heights He won and keep his torch aflame; no slothful ease for us who bear the honours of His name, to do his work we count higher than fame, indifferent to earthly praise or blame.
