Hark! ’tis the funeral trumpet’s breath!

’Tis the dirge of death!

At once ten thousand drums begin,

With one long thunder-peal the ear assailing;

Ten thousand voices then join in,

And with one deep and general din

Pour their wild wailing.

The song of praise is drown’d

Amid that deafening sound;

You hear no more the trumpet’s tone,

You hear no more the mourner’s moan,

Though the trumpet’s breath, and the dirge of death,

Mingle and swell the funeral yell.

But rising over all in one acclaim

Is heard the echoed and re-echoed name,

From all that countless rout:

Arvalan! Arvalan!

Arvalan! Arvalan!

Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout

Call Arvalan! The overpowering sound

From house to house repeated rings about,

From tower to tower rolls round.