Hard by the nation's temple of fame,
Where sleep the great in deed and name,
Liberty strides with solemn tread,
Eternal guard of the treasured dead.
Outside on tessellated floor,
Outside the walls with golden door,
Her sentry step the nation hears,
In measured beat through waiting years;
To watch the gate, her constant care,
That only the great may enter there.

From Governor's Island, cannons boom
Salute unto the fallen plume;
The fortress flag is lowered half,
And drooping, clings the barren staff;
The sword is sheathed and laid aside;
The silent barge floats down the tide, —
Down to the nation's temple of fame,
The speechless helmsman guides the prame.

The barge is moored at Fame's green isle,
The catafalque removed the while —
Brave soldiers, craped, with arms reverse,
Upon their shoulders — human hearse —
With muffled drum and mournful air,
The casket of their chieftain bear.
Up that same path where late they came,
Up to the nation's temple of fame.

The goddess sees the solemn train,
And o'er the music's sad refrain
Cries to the mourning leaders: — " Stay!
Set down the corse! what seek ye, pray?
Do ye not know, who bear the bier,
None but the great may enter here?
And who is this for whom ye claim
Eternal rest in temple of fame? "

" This is the fame our hero has:
At Churubusco, Contreras,
A youthful soldier awed the foe,
In stubborn war with Mexico;
At San Antonio 't was he
Who bore the palm of bravery.
Then open the gate to him who came
Up, step by step, to temple of fame;

" Our captain heard, in Sixty-one,
War's fierce alarm from Sumter's gun;
At Williamsburg, the soldiers say,
'T was his fierce charge that won the day.
South Mountain, with Antietam's field,
Proved him a soldier would not yield.
Deeds stalwart, fitting stalwart frame,
Earn him the right to temple of fame.

" At Golding's Farm and Garnett's Hill;
At Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville;
At Savage Station, Marye's Height,
We found him in the hottest fight.
At Spottsylvania, Wilderness,
Cold Harbor, Petersburg, no less:
These give our hero lasting name!
Then open the gate to temple of fame.

" 'T was he held Cemetery Ridge,
That made for victory a bridge;
When to his breast he held the targe
That stopped great Pickett's madd'ning charge
On doubtful field, he won by far
The grandest victory of the war,
And gave to Gettysburg a name
That wins his right to temple of fame.

" The casket lies uncovered there;
That noble face, the silvered hair,
Proclaim to all, in accents mute,
Great virtue, rarer attribute
Than tales of valor you may hear —
Great goddess, bid us raise the bier,
And to this one of spotless name
Pray ope the gate, warden of fame. "

" This door is only for the great,
Whose deeds we would perpetuate;
Twice has it opened in the year —
For Grant's and for McClellan's bier;
And now again, the nation saith:
As once in life, so e'en in death,
'T is fit that he should follow Grant,
Like a true soldier, militant; "
And now the goddess speaks once more,
As slowly swings the golden door:
" To all the world I now proclaim,
Hancock shall have eternal fame. "