The lance is rusting on the wall,
No laurel crowns are wove;
And every Knightly strain is hushed
In castle, camp and grove.

No manly breast now fronts the spear,
No strong arm waves the brand,
To vindicate the rightful cause,
Or stay oppression's hand.

The minstrel pilgrimage has ceased;
Chivalric days are o'er,
And fiery steeds bear noble men
To Palestine no more.

Rejoice in beauty more than gain;
Guard well the dreams of youth,
And with devoted firmness true
Crusaders for the truth.