In a day when the wooer is warm;。，Salvation, and to thy torn land,
Men of our race, we send you one。，One of the darlings of Earth, no more,
So trembling was the tension long constrained;。，This latest Age in repetition cries:
So he, with a clear shout of laughter,。，Joyfully render, in deep reverence
So do the beatific speak;。，Life's meaning, with the work before their hands
Grander than crowned head's mortuary dome:。，May see, unwarned by hint of friendly gods,
。，Shine, and wing hence the way he makes more clear:
Behold a warrior dealing mortal strokes,。，For never yet a hand could tame,
Nor shame she knows;。，The Power that trusts to love.
So strong a spirit is not of the dead.。，A love that springs from heart and brain
That gives, and asks for nought.。，At the one breath before the gale.
When nought save uses held the street,。，Her offspring feels they are a race,
Sweet sunny now, and safe our nest.。，The hundred years have passed, and he
Sooth, meanwhile, then did Automedon, brave son of Diores,。，Imperial means beneficent,
But now with all to learn,。，
pierced thee。，And in her veins a glow of heat.
And of it fell: whereat was chorus raised,。，
，。，Excess of heart obscures from view