Returning from the fight,
Unbidden, without wound or scar,
Or wanting glory’s crown,
Let’s stone the craven wretch to death,
Or piecemeal hew him down.”
And, how the sires have stemmed the flood
That fills our land with grief and blood;
How well they bear the brunt of woe,
We learn from scenes like this below:
Not tales of fiction to appal,