"Strong Son of Fergus, with thy latest breath<br>Thou hast lent a joy unto the funeral knell,<br>Welcoming with thy whispered 'All is well'<br>The awful aspect of the Angel Death:<br>As strong in life, thou couldst not brook to shun<br>The heat and burthen of the fiery day,<br>Fronting defeat with stalwart undismay,<br>And wearing meekly honours stoutly won.<br>Pure lips, pure hands, pure heart were thine, as aye<br>Erin demanded from her bards of old,<br>And therefore on thy harp-strings of pure gold<br>Has waked once more her high heroic lay.<br>What shoulders now shall match the mighty fold<br>Of Ossian's mantle? Thou hast passed away."