In memory of the Old-Etonians whose lives were lost in the South African War

I
Resound ! Resound ! To jubilant music ring ! 
Your birthday trumpets sound the alarm of strenuous days. 
Ye new-built walls, awake ! and welcome England's King 
With a high Glory-to-God, and holy cheer of praise.
Awake to fairest hope of fames unknown, unseen, 
When ye-too silver and solemn with age shall be : 
For all that is fair upon earth is reared with tend'rest teen, 
As the burden'd years to memory flee. 

II 
Lament, O Muse of the Thames, in pride lament again. 
With low melodious grief remember them in this hour! --
Beyond your dauntless joy, my brother, was our pain. 
Above all gold, my country, the lavish price of thy power --
The ancient groves have mourn'd our sons, for whom no more 
The sisterly kisses of life, the loved embraces. 
Remember the love of them who came not home from the war,
The fatherly tears and the veil'd faces. 

III
Now henceforth their shrine is builded, high and vast, 
Alway drawing noble hearts to noble deeds ; 
In the toil of glory to be, and the tale of glory past : 
While ever the laughing waves of youth pass over the meads,
And the tongue of Ilellas is heard, and old Time slumbereth light 
In the cradle of Peace. O let thy dancing feet 
Roam in our land and abide, dear Peace, thou child of Right, 
Giver of happiness, gentle and sweet.