Heroes of a Hundred Fields

"Watchmen, behold the warnings dire
In final muster for the land,
On these gilded mountain tops,
The kingdom’s hosts are fortressed fast.

Behind the darkened distant hills.
Your weary brethren, slumber near,
Well rest you on your battered shields,
Lay beneath their sheltering ward

As sentries wake the lines to guard
The heroes of a hundred fields
The air burns sweet, the sky now calm,
Yet echoes of their combat cries!

Faint, distant, o’r these grassy slopes,
O’ spirits of the mighty hill, 
Envelop now, with waving wings 
This holy consecrated ground, 
Where blood sport came to pass in anger,
Give strength to all, this lonely hour,
Keep brethren dear now, close to hand,
For victory's day is only young! Only young!

They now have fought, and so have striven,
Faced with foes, but stood by friends,
Battled so that all be free men
Rebellions beacons now alight.
Hold brethren dear now, close to hand,
For victories day is only young!

Battled so that all be free men
Rebellions beacons now alight!"