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And redder yet those fires shall glow On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow, And darker yet shall be the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

Twas [ ], but scarce yon [ ] sun Had pierced the war-clouds rolling dun Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy

The combat thickens on ye brave That rush to glory or the grave Wave Munich all thy banners wave Shout with all thy chivalry

Few few shall part where many meet The snow shall be their winding-sheet And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre

Campbell