XXI.
Period of honour as of woes,
What bright careers ’twas thine to close!—
Mark’d on thy roll of blood what names
To Britain’s memory, and to Fame’s,
Laid there their last immortal claims!
Thou saw’st in seas of gore expire
Redoubted Picton’s soul of fire—
Saw’st in the mingled carnage lie
All that of Ponsonby could die—
De Lancy change Love’s bridal-wreath,
For laurels from the hand of Death—
Saw’st gallant Miller’s failing eye
Still bent where Albion’s banners fly,
And Cameron, in the shock of steel,
Die like the offspring of Lochiel;
And generous Gordon, ’mid the strife,
Fall while he watch’d his leader’s life.—
Ah! though her guardian angel’s shield
Fenced Britain’s hero through the field,
Fate not the less her power made known,
Through his friends’ hearts to pierce his own!